


Charades

by BlackFriar



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackFriar/pseuds/BlackFriar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Batman and Robin are mysteriously occupied elsewhere, the team are assigned a mission in Gotham which Wally suspects may not be all that it seems. When a link to a high profile kidnapping is revealed, Wally is faced with the difficult task of keeping one of the Justice League's biggest secrets while also hiding his concern for a friend in trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"It is not flesh and blood, but the heart which makes us father and sons." Johann Schiller.

oOo

“Lucius, I don’t care what his lawyers threatened! It still doesn’t change the fact that Branston Daniels violated the terms of the agreement when he created that damn prototype; clause thirty-four was specifically written to prevent that.”

Bruce Wayne fixed his business manager with an irritated look. This was the third time this week that Lucius had raised the issue of the Branthrope partnership, and Bruce felt he had already made himself quite clear on the matter. “Just terminate the contract! If Daniels has a problem with it, tell him to contact our lawyers.”

Lucius appeared unfazed by his employer’s tirade. “Bruce, you break that contract now and it will be at a loss to Wayne Enterprises.”

“We can afford it.”

“Maybe, but Branthrope can’t. They were barely keeping their heads above water before this. You pull out now and it will bankrupt them.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “I _know_ , Lucius, but what do you expect me to do? They were going to sell that technology to the highest bidder! You know as well as I do how dangerous it would be if it got into the wrong hands. Besides, Daniels should have been upfront from the start about his financial situation; his company wasn’t in a position to go in on a deal like this.”

“And it’s a pity Jonah didn’t think to check a little deeper into Branthrope before he signed on the dotted line,” Lucius pointed out.

Bruce scowled. Jonah Harris was a long serving member on his Board of Directors who had first raised the suggestion of investing in Branthrope Incorporated several months ago. It had seemed like an excellent idea at the time. Waynetech were in the process of developing a nanite technology that allowed for targeted drug delivery at a molecular level, while Branthrope Incorporated were working on a chemical that could reanimate dead tissue. If successful, the combination of both sciences could create untold medical advances. However, Branthrope Incorporated had used the Waynetech nanites to develop a weapons’ prototype that could potentially disintegrate a body in seconds by attacking the molecular structure of cells.

Bruce had found out about the prototype at the same time he had been made aware of Branthrope’s past dealings with foreign mercenaries – which if he had known beforehand, would have prevented him from ever doing business with Branthrope. He was angry with Jonah for not disclosing the full extent of Branthrope’s past, as well as their chequered financial history. What had been a potentially brilliant partnership had descended into one big headache, with Bruce trying to terminate the contract and have the weapons’ prototype – along with all of its research – destroyed. However, Branston Daniels was fighting both for all he was worth, meaning that reprimanding Jonah was low on Bruce’s current list of priorities…but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t. He just needed to deal with the matter at hand first.

“Lucius, I know you’re only trying to make the best of a bad situation but…”

“Quit flogging the dead horse?”

Bruce chuckled and stood up. “That’s one way of putting it. Contact our lawyers and make them aware of the situation; don’t deal with Daniels anymore. If he contacts you, refer him to them.”

Lucius nodded. “Sorry to get you down here when you have plans, Bruce, I just thought you should see the letter from his lawyers.”

“It’s alright, Lucius. I know you wouldn’t have called me if it wasn’t important.”

“So, what are you and Dick doing tonight that you’re in such a rush?” he asked, gathering up the paperwork.

“It’s the Ultimate Fight Night at Gotham Square Gardens. Dick has never been before and he’s been looking forward to it for weeks.”

Lucius shook his head as they walked out of the office. “You have to be the only parent I know who considers violent contact sports a suitable form of entertainment for a thirteen-year-old.”

Bruce smiled. “You sound like Alfred. But Mixed Martial Arts is not as violent as the media would have you believe; there’s quite a bit of skill involved.”

“Where is Dick?” asked Lucius as they passed the empty waiting area en-route to the elevator. “I thought he came with you?”

“He did. We met Jimmy and Ed on the way in and he stopped to talk to them.”

The older man gave a fond smile. “Typical Dick. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such an instant ability to get on with everyone.

“It comes naturally to him.” Bruce looked at his watch. “We’d better get going. Are you coming?”

Lucius shook his head. “I want to finish up a few things first. Enjoy your evening, Bruce. Tell Dick I said hello.”

“I will. Have a good weekend, Lucius.”

Bruce stepped into the elevator and hit the ground floor button. He could see Lucius walking back to his office as the doors slid closed. The elevator jerked slightly before the hum of movement indicated its descent. Bruce stared at his reflection in the mirrored surface, not really seeing it. His thoughts were on Dick.

It had only been a few days since the disastrous training exercise with Martian Manhunter and Bruce was troubled by how uncharacteristically quiet Dick had been in the aftermath. He had seemed more like his old self since the counselling session with Black Canary, but there was still an unease lurking below the surface – an unease that Bruce knew had much to do with him.

The elevator doors pinged open and he was greeted with laughter pealing across the lobby. Dick was sitting on the security desk with his legs crossed, chortling. Jimmy was grinning from behind the desk, his eyes going back and forth between the security screens while Ed – who was standing in front of them – recounted some story, miming as he did so.

Bruce hoped it was a clean story; Ed’s sense of humour bordered on the obscene sometimes. “Dick,” he called, walking towards them. Three heads turned and Jimmy got to his feet.

Dick’s eyes gleamed. “Are we ready to go?”

Bruce nodded.

“Cool!” The boy arched off the security desk, landing gracefully on the floor. He grinned back at the two men. “See you guys next week!”

“Enjoy Fight Night, kid,” smiled Jimmy.

“Goodnight, Mr. Wayne,” Ed added.

“Goodnight,” Bruce responded, ushering Dick towards the doors.

The October air was slightly chilly after the warmth of the lobby, and the street was quiet as they descended the front steps. Wayne Enterprises was located in Gotham’s financial district – a hive of activity throughout the day, but practically a ghost town by late evening.

Dick checked his watch. “It’s after seven thirty. How long until the first fight?”

“It starts at eight. We have plenty of time.”

“Don’t suppose we could stop for pizza after?” he asked hopefully.

“Sorry, Dick, I have an important conference call that I have to be back for.” Bruce gave him a meaningful look that clearly said Batman had somewhere to be tonight.

Dick nodded, looking slightly disappointed.

A slight rustle to the left caught Bruce’s attention. He froze, his sharp eyes spotting a dark van parked on the street that hadn’t been there before. His hand shot out and seized Dick’s shoulder just as several shadowy shapes emerged from the darkness, surrounding them.

Eyes narrowing, Bruce assessed the situation; four men dressed in dark clothing and wearing balaclavas blocked their path. They wouldn’t be able to reach the car, but maybe they could retreat back to Wayne Enterprises?

He glanced back at the building. Another man stood at the top of the steps. They were trapped.

Bruce frowned. This was clearly not some random mugging. Briefly he wondered if this had anything to do with the Waynetech technology that he was currently embroiled in battle with Branthrope Incorporated over; Bruce was the only person with access to every element of it.

The men started to close in and he stopped thinking as instinct took over. He threw a hard punch at the nearest man’s jaw while Dick ducked the grabbing arms of another. Two of the men reached for Bruce and he delivered a swift uppercut to the first man’s chin, simultaneously driving a hard knee into the second’s solar plexus. Bruce Wayne may not be up to Batman’s level, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fight – he just couldn’t be _too_ good.

Beside him, Dick was ducking and weaving between two men. His movements were fluid, skilled, and altogether too impressive for Dick Grayson; without thinking, the boy had switched into Robin.

Bruce smashed his fist into the jaw of the fifth man who had just come down the steps then whirled and grabbed Dick. “Pare down your fighting,” he hissed, while making it look as though he was defending the boy.

Dick shot him an incredulous you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me glance but Bruce shook his head insistently. He knew that Jimmy and Ed were watching the security screens, and the outside cameras panned several yards in front of the building. They should have seen what was happening by now; all Bruce needed to do was keep the men occupied until help arrived.

He had just blocked a hard punch to his ribs when suddenly, something exploded inside him; shades of grey eclipsing his vision as the world fell away.

Reality slowly tunneled back to him, and he found himself on his hands and knees on the pavement. He looked up. One of the men stood above him with a stun-gun. He recognized the model; a lethal item designed to ensure maximum dispersal of pain. But it had never made it past safety regulations or progressed to development; the only way these men could have obtained the blueprints necessary to build it was illegally. This _had_ to be about the Waynetech technology.

“Bruce!” Dick was struggling to reach him. One of the men was holding his arms behind his back. “Bruce, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He clambered to his feet and glared at the man with the stun gun. “I’ll go with you, leave him out of this.”

The masked man gave a chuckle of amusement. “You? Wayne, you may be one of the richest assholes on the planet but that kidnapping clause of yours makes you worthless."

Bruce’s heart dropped like a stone. Ten years ago he had instigated a life insurance plan designed to discourage kidnappers; it prohibited ransom payment in the event of his own abduction.

This wasn’t about the Waynetech technology.

“Dick, RUN!” he yelled, throwing himself at the man who was holding the boy. He sent the man reeling and had just smashed a fist into the jaw of a second when another internal explosion rocked him and the world went grey again, before lighting up into a fiery red. He was burning up, shooting out sparks in every direction.

The next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the pavement, gasping. He must have passed out. Sounds of a struggle reached his ears and he jerked his head up. The masked men were moving towards the edge of the pavement where the black van was now pulling up. Two of them were carrying Dick while the boy bucked and yelled. Bruce hauled himself to his feet as one of them slid open the side door of the van, but immediately crashed back to the ground, his muscles still spasming from the electrical charge.

“Dick!” he shouted, desperately trying to make his body cooperate.

The boy was being forced into the back of the van. His head turned at his guardian’s voice. “Bruce– Get off you jerks!” He threw a hard punch at one of their noses and the crack echoed in the silent street.

The man holding the stun-gun jabbed it into the boy’s arm and he convulsed before going limp.

A howl of rage escaped Bruce and he forced himself to his feet. One of the other men produced a gun and pointed it at Bruce. “Hold it right there, Wayne.”

Bruce took a step forward. The man’s eyes narrowed through the balaclava and he swung the gun so that it was pointing at Dick instead. The boy was lying on the floor of the van while one of the men bound his hands behind his back. Bruce froze.

“You know how this works, Wayne,” said the one with the stun-gun. We’ll be in touch.”

The man climbed into the van just as Dick turned to face his guardian. His eyes were dazed as they met Bruce’s. A hood was dropped over his head. It was the last thing Bruce saw before the door slammed shut and the van pulled out.


	2. Chapter 2

“Why haven’t they called?” Bruce demanded, pausing mid-pace. “It’s been hours!”

“Calm down, Bruce,” said Clark from where he had been watching him wear a hole in the floor. He had arrived a short time before. “They wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble to kidnap Dick and then not make the ransom call.”

“But why is it taking so _long_?” 

It was Detective Bullock who answered from where he was lounging against the wall chewing on a toothpick. “They’re just messin’ with your head, Mr. Wayne, tryin’ to scare ya so you’ll do what they want.” The detective scowled as he spoke. He hated creeps who messed with kids.

Bruce sighed in frustration and resumed pacing. He was aware that kidnappers often left several hours between the abduction and the ransom demand as a means to further frighten and intimidate concerned parents – a frantic parent was more likely to acquiesce to any demands the kidnappers might make – but this had been more than just a few hours, it was almost seven am. These kidnappers had let the entire night go by in an effort to rattle Bruce further.

And it was working. Despite his best efforts, his nerves were a jangled mess. Bruce was a man of action; he hated not being able to do anything, but right now that was his only option. He was confined to the manor until the kidnappers called – meaning Batman was also on lock-down.

Bruce ran through the events of the kidnapping in his head for the hundredth time. The men had known exactly where they would be…they had waited until Bruce and Dick had moved far enough away from the building before making their move to ensure they wouldn’t be interrupted…they had worked fast in the window they had…in short, they had been organised, efficient and well-trained. These men were more than just common criminals. Bruce strongly suspected they were mercenaries. But who would hire mercenaries to carry out a kidnapping? 

His thoughts were interrupted by Alfred announcing Commissioner Gordon.

“Anything new, Commissioner?” he asked anxiously.

The officer shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne. We found the getaway vehicle but no trace of the kidnappers. Forensics are going through it now but it’s unlikely they’ll find anything; the van was stripped clean.”

“So they had another car waiting,” he concluded grimly, anxiety levels ratcheting several notches higher with this new information. These men were good. They knew how to cover their tracks.

“Most likely. Any word here?” 

Bruce shook his head, his eyes going to the phone. _Ring, damn you!_

Ignoring the Commissioner’s pitying look, he moved to the window, leaving Clark to engage the officer in conversation; he was too worried to make small talk. Putting a hand to his head, his thoughts went to Dick. Where was he? Had they hurt him? This was Bruce’s biggest fear. Their use of the stun-gun told him these men would not hesitate to inflict pain in order to achieve their aim.

He stared out the window at the slowly breaking dark. It would be daylight soon. How many more hours of this waiting would he have to endure? Why the hell weren’t they calling? Bruce didn’t care what these men wanted, they could have it. He just wanted Dick home.

As if on cue, the phone rang. He practically dove across the room and grabbed for it, but Commissioner Gordon stayed his hand. Bruce growled at him in anger. 

The officer ignored him. “Keep them talking as long as you can,” he instructed. “And insist on talking to Dick, that’s the most important thing. We need proof he’s alive.”

Bruce nodded impatiently and snatched up the phone. “Hello?!”

“Took you long enough, Wayne. I almost hung up.” He recognised that voice, the man with the stun-gun.

“Where’s Dick? I want to talk to him.”

“In a minute. We have a little something to discuss first.”

“We don’t talk about anything until I know Dick is okay!”

“I’d rethink the attitude, Wayne. Not a smart move to piss off the man who has your kid.”

Bruce forced some deference into his tone. “I’m sorry. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“All in good time. First, our demands.”

Bruce had to swallow his rage and frustration. “I’m listening.”

“Eighty million dollars in unmarked, non-sequential bills. No new bills. Divide the money between two bags; no tracking devices or explosive dyes in the money bags. Got it?”

Bruce’s hand tightened on the phone. “Yes. Where and when?”

“That comes later. I’m giving you forty-eight hours to get the money together and then I’ll contact you to make a swap.”

Bruce’s heart sank. More waiting. “Why can’t we do this now?”

“Because you need time to get the money together and I’m not letting your buddy Gordon use it to come up with a plan to be at the drop! Forty-eight hours and we’ll organize the swap. In the meantime, I have someone here who wants to talk to you.”

There was silence for a moment and then Dick’s voice sounded on the line. “Brsss?”

Something didn’t sound right. “Dick, are you alright?”

“Uhh, yes?” His voice was thick, his words slurred. 

Bruce scowled darkly. _Drugs_. “Dick, you just hang in there, buddy, okay? I’m going to get you home as quickly as I can.”

There was a few seconds delay before he responded. “’Kay.”

He sounded thoroughly disoriented. Bruce wanted to put his fist through something.

“Time’s up.” The kidnapper was back on the line.

“What did you give him?” he demanded angrily.

“Something to make him a little more controllable, I wouldn’t worry.”

“That’s where you and I differ! He’s thirteen; you don’t need to drug him!”

“Just shut up and listen, Wayne!” the man snapped. “I know the cops are there, listening in and trying to trace this call – good luck with that by the way – but you bring any of them within fifty miles of this ransom drop and you will _never_ see your kid again. Do you understand?”

Rage and fear churned within him. “Yes.”

“Good. And just to prove we mean business…”

His heart began to race. “No, you don’t need to prove anything!”

There was no response.

“Are you listening?! I said you don’t need to prove anything!” He was shouting now. There was the sound of scuffling on the other end, then a loud metallic bang followed immediately by a cry of pain.

“Stop it! What are you doing?” Bruce yelled, icy horror washing over him.

Another bang echoed and a scream resonated through the phone. Bruce closed his eyes; Dick’s cries of distress were tearing at his soul.

“Forty-eight hours, Wayne,” the man reminded him, before the buzz of a dial tone hummed in his ear.

“Did we get anything?” Commissioner Gordon asked the technician.

The technician shook his head. “Sorry, sir, they bounced the signal off of four satellites, no chance of a trace.”

Bruce clenched his teeth and threw the phone at the wall.

oOo

Something sharp stung his face. Dick tried to raise a hand but his arms were immobilized behind him. The something snapped against his cheek again. Someone was striking him. He tried to move away but his body was refusing to cooperate.

“Come on, kid, wake up!” a voice growled and someone shook him hard.

“You gave him too much,” a second voice complained. 

“I know what I gave him, the brat’s just being lazy!” 

A third, ringing slap was delivered to his face, dislodging some of the fog clouding his brain. “Stoppit,” he slurred. He sounded drunk. _What the hell?_

“Snap out of it or I’ll hit you again!” the first voice threatened.

Dick shook his head, trying to clear it. 

“He’s awake, get him up!” a third voice ordered. 

Dick felt himself being hauled to his feet and forced open his eyes, only to be met with total darkness. He almost panicked until he realized that tape that had been wound around his head, covering his eyes. _Okay, seriously. What the hell?_

His legs felt like jelly and his body felt weak. He wavered slightly and the hands gripping his arms tightened their grip. Fragmented images floated in his brain and he tried to anchor one in an effort to figure out what was going on, but his thoughts slipped away like sand through his fingers. He shook his head again in an effort to clear it.

“You with us, kid?” a harsh voice in front of him asked suddenly and he jerked.

“Who…re you?” he managed to get out. His tongue felt too big for his mouth.

“Not your business!” the harsh voice snapped. “Let’s do this.”

There was silence, over which Dick could hear the tap-tap of a keyboard. After several minutes, he heard the harsh voice. “Took you long enough, Wayne. I almost hung up.”

_Bruce!_

His memories cleared slightly and some of what happened started to drift back to him; men outside Wayne Enterprises, Bruce and a dark van…but why was it all so vague? And why did he feel so lethargic?

 _Drugs?_ he wondered and returned his attention to the call.

“I’d rethink the attitude, Wayne,” the man was saying. “Not a smart move to piss off the man who has your kid.”

Dick scowled. This guy was a tool.

“All in good time. First, our demands.” There was a small pause. “Eighty million dollars in unmarked, non-sequential bills. No new bills. Divide the money between two bags; no tracking devices or explosive dyes in the money bags. Got it?”

The boy was stunned. Eighty million dollars was a _lot_ of money. These guys were certainly ambitious. 

“That comes later,” the man was now saying, clearly responding to Bruce. “I’m giving you forty-eight hours to get the money together and then I’ll contact you to make a swap.”

 _Forty-eight hours?_ Dick’s heart sank. 

“Because you need time to get the money together and I’m not letting your buddy Gordon use it to come up with a plan to be at the drop!” the man snapped at his guardian. “Forty-eight hours and we’ll organise the swap. In the meantime, I have someone here who wants to talk to you.”

Footsteps came towards him and a phone was shoved to his ear. “Brsss?” he slurred, trying to dial down how out of it he sounded, but he couldn’t seem to help it; his head was stuffed with cotton wool and his tongue felt enormous.

“Dick, are you alright?”

He had to think about that. “Uhh, yes?”

“Dick, you just hang in there, buddy, okay? I’m going to get you home as quickly as I can.”

His tongue lolled and he swallowed. _Stupid tongue._ “’Kay.”

The phone was removed from his ear. “Time’s up,” the harsh voice spoke again.

The ropes binding his wrists were cut and he was dragged forwards. His breathing quickened. The man was still talking to Bruce… Dick had a bad feeling about this. 

His limbs were heavy and slow, and his struggles were feeble as a much bigger someone forced him to bend forward across what felt like a table. The much bigger someone used his weight to pin Dick there while someone else seized his left wrist, pulling it in front of him across the table surface. Using his free hand, Dick reached backwards and gouged at the face of the man holding him in place, but a massive hand clamped down on the wrist and twisted his arm behind him until his fingertips brushed his shoulder blades. He hissed in pain, trying to tug his arm out of the hold.

Suddenly, a metal bang echoed and fire exploded throughout the fingers of his left hand. He cried out as pain flared up his arm like an electric shock and he tugged desperately in an effort to bring the hand towards him. The pain cut through the fog in his head, shocking his mind from its drug-induced haze. A second bang erupted as violent agony smashed into his fingers again, making him scream. He kicked frantically. The pain was excruciating. 

His left wrist was released just as the man behind him straightened up, his weight no longer pinning Dick to the table. The boy staggered to his feet and curled his arm against his chest, cradling the shattered fingers and gasping with pain.

Through the haze of pain, he could hear the man talking to Bruce tell him, “Forty-eight hours, Wayne.”

Laughter sounded behind him. “That should scare Mr. Rich Big-wig!” A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump. “Nice job convincing him, kid.”

“Bite me!” Dick spat.

A hand seized his hair and pulled his head back. “I had a lot of tools to choose from – just be glad I picked the hammer!” the man snarled, releasing his hair in one rough forward shove.

“Will I put him out again?” asked another voice.

“Not yet,” replied the one who had been talking to Bruce. He seemed to be the one calling the shots. “Take him down the hall; let him use the bathroom.”

The next thing Dick knew, a strong hand had seized his arm and dragged him backwards before spinning him around and pushing him forwards. “Walk!” a voice commanded.

Unable to see where he was going, his steps lacked their usual grace and Dick found himself stumbling several times. Each time he was yanked to his feet by a rough hand. His knees were throbbing when he was finally jerked to a halt and the hand pushed him forwards.

“Toilet to your left, sink to your right,” the man told him brusquely. “Just so you know, there’s no lock and no window. You have three minutes.”

A door behind him banged shut and Dick jumped. He felt very vulnerable without his sight.

His heart was still racing and his hands were trembling from the shock of having his fingers smashed in with a hammer. He gently touched the shattered digits, trying to assess how much damage had been done, but hissed as agony flared at even the lightest touch.

_Okay, not doing that again._

Still keeping his left hand cradled against his chest, he raised his right hand to his head and tried to peel off the duct tape from around his eyes. But there were so many layers and his hand was shaking so much that he couldn’t do it. Frustrated, his uninjured hand rooted in his pocket for his cell phone. He knew these men were too good to have left it on him but he had to check anyway.

Someone hammered on the door making him jump again. “Two minutes,” the man outside warned.

Dick bit his lip and used his good hand to feel for the sink and toilet. He sighed. _Oh this ought to be fun._ No sight and one hand… Dick would have laughed at himself if his situation weren’t so dire. 

He was glad the man had opted to close the door and remain outside as he struggled to use the bathroom. This was humiliating enough without someone being there to witness it. He was just washing his uninjured hand when the door banged open.

“Time’s up,” the man growled, grabbing the back of his jacket and yanking him out of the bathroom.

Dick gritted his teeth as he was manhandled back to where the other men were. He was getting pretty tired of their macho displays of aggression; they were kidnappers, bad men, he got it. They didn’t have to keep shoving it in his face!

“All done?” the man who seemed to be in charge wanted to know. The harshness in his voice made him instantly recognisable. “Good. Restrain him.”

Someone seized both of his wrists and forced his hands behind his back. He cried out as pain vibrated up his arm from his broken fingers. Someone else was in front of him, gripping his upper arms while the man behind him began to bind his wrists tightly. Agony was lighting up his fingers and the pain made him reckless. 

“Get off!” he yelled, simultaneously bringing his head back to smash against the nose of the man behind him whilst kneeing the groin of the man in front. Howls of pain erupted from both of them and they released him. Dick used the opportunity to twist out from between them. 

He darted forwards only for someone else to grab him. Before Dick knew what was happening, he was being forced to the floor.

“Not a smart move, kid!” someone growled in his ear. A knee dug into his lower back and rough hands finished binding his wrists.

He pressed his forehead into the floor and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, willing the agony in his fingers to subside. No, it hadn’t been a smart move but he had reacted to the pain without thinking.

Suddenly, something sharp pierced his arm and he jerked. “Hey!”

“Relax, kid,” a voice to his left told him. “Do you want to spend the next forty-eight hours feeling those fingers or would you rather feel nothing at all?”

Dick scowled. He’d rather spend the next forty-eight hours enjoying his weekend and hanging out with his friends, but these clowns had ensured that wouldn’t happen.  
Slowly, the tension began to drain from his body and the fog that had clouded his thoughts just a short time before rolled over him again. A soothing cessation of pain flowed through his fingers, and he could feel himself melting into the floor. The last thing Dick Grayson was aware of was the suffocating sensation of the world closing in around him.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m bored!” Wally complained loudly.

“Shhhhhh!” hissed Artemis in annoyance, her eyes riveted to the TV screen.

Wally rolled his eyes as some blond male-model type flexed his muscles. Why were they even watching this crap anyway? “There has to be something better on,” he muttered, reaching for the remote.

“Don’t even think about it!” Artemis smacked his hand.

“Oh, come on! You can’t tell me you’re actually enjoying this?”

“Would I be watching it if I wasn’t?”

“With you, who can tell?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

The man on screen began to wring his hands and music boomed for dramatic emphasis. Wally gnashed his teeth. He _hated_ soap operas. But it was when the blond Adonis started to sob that he finally snapped. “That’s it! We’re changing channels!” 

He snatched the remote off the coffee table and quickly switched to a sports channel. A football game appeared on screen. “Ahhhh, much better.”

“Change it back!” demanded Artemis furiously, grabbing at the remote.

He leaned away from her, holding the remote in the air. “No way! No one else wants to watch that crap!”

“Oh, and football is a fair compromise?” she snapped, wrestling with Wally on the couch as they fought for control of the remote. 

“Beats soap-opera central!”

“According to you!”

“According to anyone who’s _normal_!”

“Normal doesn’t apply to you, Baywatch!”

“Maybe we should watch something that everyone will enjoy?” the calm voice of Kaldur interrupted their bickering.

They stopped mid-wrestle to look at the older teenager sitting quietly on the other couch. Superboy sat beside him, arms crossed and face twisted in a scowl. Even M’gann was watching them with raised eyebrows from where she lay on the floor, her head propped on her hands.

Wally sighed. “Fine. Just so long as it’s not some pretty boy crying!”

Artemis seized the remote. “And no football!”

Wally squinted at her. “You know, you actually like football. You just don’t want to watch it because I do.”

“Like that makes any sense,” she retorted, flicking through the channels.

“Hey, you’re the one who– wait! Stop!”

“What?”

“Go back!” he said urgently, his eyes on the TV screen.

“We’re not putting on football!”

“It’s not football!” He grabbed the remote and flicked back through the channels.

She punched him in the arm. “You’re such a control freak!” 

He ignored her as he found the news channel he was looking for; the one Artemis had landed on briefly while flicking through the channels, the one with Dick Grayson’s picture on the screen. 

“…no word yet on a possible ransom demand,” the announcer was saying. The picture changed to a group of rioters setting fire to a parked car. “In other news, Bialyan freedom fighters have…”

 _No! What happened?_ Wally thought, frantically flipping through other news channels to find out more. A picture of Dick appeared on the Channel Five News and he stopped.

“Wally, what’s wrong?” M’gann asked. 

“Shhhhh!” he flapped his hands at her, listening to the newscaster.

“Gotham City was shocked last night by the violent kidnapping of Richard Grayson, son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. Mr. Wayne and his son were attacked outside Wayne Enterprises by a group of unknown men who abducted the boy and beat Mr. Wayne. Gotham City Police Department are refusing to comment on whether or not a ransom demand has yet been made. In local news…”

Wally stared, stunned, at the screen. His heart was racing. Dick had been kidnapped? Why had no one told him?!

“Wally!” Artemis poked him hard and he looked at her. Her irritation with him had disappeared and she was now staring at him in concern. “Are you okay?”

Wally didn’t answer. He was most definitely not okay. His best friend had been kidnapped and he had to find out about it on a news report?!

“Wally, what’s going on? Do you know that boy?” M’gann asked.

They were all watching him expectantly, waiting for an explanation…but he couldn’t give them one. Sometimes, it really sucked being the only one on the team who knew Robin’s real identity.

He was saved from having to answer by Superman’s voice sounding over the comm. link. “Team, report for mission debrief.”

They looked at one another, surprise evident on everyone’s face except Wally’s.

“Where’s Batman?” M’gann wanted to know.

Artemis shrugged and Kaldur shook his head, frowning. Wally remained silent, his heart still racing. He wondered if Superman had any word on Dick. He’d better have, otherwise to hell with the mission, Wally was going to Gotham!

He was jerked out of his thoughts by the sound of the team responding to Superman’s command. Wally trailed after them, his thoughts troubled.

He was joined by Artemis who lagged behind to talk with him. “What’s up with you?” she demanded. “Why are you so bothered by the kidnapping of some rich kid in Gotham?”

“He is not just–” Wally caught himself. “I don’t…he’s not…its…I just don’t like kidnappers, alright!”

Artemis looked at him like he was insane. 

“Just drop it, okay?” he muttered.

She was still eyeing him strangely as they trooped into mission control to find Superman and Flash deep in conversation with Red Tornado. Wally knew at once by their serious expressions that they were talking about the kidnapping. He tried to catch his uncle’s eye but Flash ignored him.

“You have an assignment for us, Superman?” Kaldur enquired.

“Yes.” The man of steel raised an image of a large building on the holographic computer. “This is Branthrope Incorporated, located in Gotham City. It’s a chemical research facility that Batman suspects of having ties to some dangerous mercenaries; they may be developing a chemical weapon for them. Your job is to stake out the facility and discover what you can about the company’s dealings, especially the company director, Branston Daniels.”

“Gotham City?” Artemis sounded unhappy. “Isn’t Batman a little weird about other crime fighters invading his turf?”

Superman didn’t look at them. “You are being assigned to this at Batman’s request.”

“Why isn’t Batman handling this himself?” Superboy wanted to know.

“Batman is occupied elsewhere.”

“What about Robin?” asked Kaldur. “This sounds like a mission where we could really use his hacking skills.”

None of the adults were looking at them now. “Robin is busy with Batman,” Superman answered.

 _Yeah, he’s busy alright,_ Wally thought angrily, _busy being kidnapped!_

He was furious with his uncle for not telling him about this. And he had a feeling that there was more to this assignment than they were letting on; it was too much of a coincidence that they were being given a mission in Gotham just after Dick had been kidnapped. “Any particular reason Batman suspects this company of building a chemical weapon?”

The team looked around in surprise. No one ever questioned Batman’s suspicions. He was Batman. If he had his suspicions, that was reason enough.

Wally's uncle gave him a sharp look. “He didn’t say.”

“Right.”

Superman frowned at him before addressing the team. “This is a covert, recon mission only. Under no circumstances are you to reveal your presence. I can’t go into the details, but there could be some serious consequences if you’re seen. Please remember that and contact the League if anything of importance comes up.” The holographic image disappeared. “Any questions?” 

The only response was silence.

“Good. Suit up and be ready to leave ASAP.” 

Superman and Red Tornado retreated to another part of the cave while Flash remained behind and fixed his eyes on his nephew. “Uh, Wally, can I have a quick word?”

“About?” His tone was hostile and the other teenagers shot him confused looks. The speedster was scowling at his uncle with his arms crossed. Tension hung in the air. They glanced uncertainly between Wally and Flash.

“He’ll be along in a minute,” Flash told them. “Just some family stuff.” He waited until the teenagers were out of the room before turning to Wally. “I take it you’ve heard?”

“Yeah, on the freaking news!” Wally exploded. “What the hell?! How could you not tell me about this?! He’s my best friend!”

“Shhhh!” Flash gestured at him to be quiet. “I only just found out about it. The kidnapping happened late yesterday evening and the only person Bruce called was Clark.”

“Has there been any word?” he asked anxiously. 

“The ransom call was made this morning, eighty million dollars. Bruce has forty-eight hours to get the money together.”

“Eighty million?! Are they for real?” To Wally, it was an astronomical sum. “What about Dick? Did Bruce talk to him? Is he alright?”

“Bruce spoke with him.”

Something in the way his uncle answered him made Wally narrow his eyes. “But is he alright?”

Flash couldn’t look at him. “Bruce thinks they might be drugging him.”

“And?” Wally knew his uncle; Barry was as lousy at hiding things as he was.

“They may have hurt him as an incentive to make sure Bruce pays the ransom.”

“May have?! What do you mean may have?!”

“I don’t know. Bruce heard Dick cry out and then the call ended.”

“I don’t believe this!” Wally grabbed fistfuls of hair in a panicked gesture. “Have the League found out anything about the kidnappers?”

“They’re not looking, they–”

“Not looking?!” Wally interrupted furiously, his voice getting louder. “What do you mean they’re not looking? This is Dick we’re talking about!”

“Wally, keep it down! That’s exactly the point, its _Dick_ we’re talking about, not Robin! You know the League can’t get involved in something like this.”

“Why not?!”

“Kidnappings are not considered a League responsibility. We get involved in this and it could raise some very uncomfortable questions. And it only takes is one wrong question for people to start looking a little too closely at the links between Batman and Bruce Wayne.”

Wally could feel anger rankle at him. “Screw Batman and his secret identity! Why is it always about the mission with him! What about Dick? Isn’t he important?”

“You think this is about the mission? Oh, Wally.”

There was something in his uncle’s tone that he didn’t understand. “Then what is it about?”

Flash studied him carefully. “Wally, have you ever wondered why Batman and Robin’s identities are so well-guarded, even amongst League members?”

“Yeah, because Batman doesn’t trust anyone!”

“No– well, yes, Batman doesn’t trust anyone. But that’s not the only reason half the League don’t know who Batman really is, or why he won’t let Robin tell the rest of the team his real name.”

Wally snorted. What other reason was there except for Bat paranoia?

Flash responded to his sceptical expression. “As a crime fighter the fewer people who know your real name, the less likely you are to be unmasked–”

“I know that! It still doesn’t explain why Batman doesn’t trust the League or the rest of the team, its not like they’re going to tell anyone!”

“Maybe not on purpose but accidents happen, things slip out. And there are other ways of getting things out of people… Batman’s just not willing to take that chance.”

“Why not? The rest of the League are okay with it.”

“And did you ever ask yourself why that is? Wally, who has the most to lose by having their identity revealed?”

The teenager stared at him blankly.

Flash sighed. “Think about it, Wally; many of the League aren’t even from earth. Having their identities revealed isn’t such a big deal to them – they don’t have anything to lose here. And for those of us who do, we’re just ordinary civilians who would probably find it a lot easier to disappear than one of the richest and most high-profile men in the world. How many people do you know who haven’t heard of Bruce Wayne, or who wouldn’t recognize him in a second?”

“None,” Wally admitted.

“Exactly, none. All it would take is for one wrong person to discover the truth and there would be nowhere for Batman or Bruce to hide. And who do the criminal underworld consider to be Batman’s biggest weakness?”

“Robin,” Wally whispered, beginning to understand.

Flash nodded. “Could you imagine if they knew Robin’s real identity? Dick Grayson, the most important person to both Batman _and_ Bruce Wayne? Just think about what the bounty on his head would be…he’d never be safe again! Wally, the biggest reason Batman insists on secrecy isn’t for the mission, it’s for Dick.”

Wally stared at his uncle, unable to believe he was hearing this. He knew Bruce cared about Dick; he just thought he cared about the mission more. “But isn’t he afraid the kidnappers might kill Dick once they get the money? Why doesn’t he have the League look for him?”

“The League are too well known, someone might see them and ask too many of the wrong questions. Bruce won’t risk it. Wally, I know he might act like it but Batman isn’t made of stone. You think he isn’t doing anything to find Dick? Why else would the team suddenly have a mission in Gotham?”

“I _knew_ that was too much of a coincidence! Does he think this Daniels’ guy kidnapped Dick?”

“He suspects he may have hired mercenaries to do it. Wally, I’m telling you this because you need to keep your head in the game. I know you’re worried about Dick, but you need to pull it together or the team are going to suspect that something is up.”

Wally’s heart sank; he sucked at secrets and lying. But his best friend was counting on him. Sighing, he nodded.

Flash clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Atta boy.”

oOo

A knock sounded at the study door. “Come in,” Bruce called, without turning from where he was sitting in the chair behind his desk, staring out the window.

The door opened. “It’s done,” he heard Clark’s voice. “The team deployed an hour ago.”

Bruce nodded. He strongly suspected Daniels as having a role in Dick’s kidnapping. Aside from the use of mercenaries, the ransom demand had been unusually high; enough so that Daniels could pay the mercenaries and still develop his weapon without financial backing from Wayne Enterprises. 

But the weapon was a problem that Bruce – or Batman – could deal with later; right now his only concern was getting Dick back. He hoped the team would be able to find something on their reconnaissance mission at Branthrope that might lead them to Dick. He didn’t want to wait another forty hours just to hear from the kidnappers, and then potentially several more just to get his son back. He wanted Dick home now.

Clark came around the desk and leaned against the edge, crossing his arms. “You should get some sleep, Bruce; you’ve been up all night.”

He shook his head. “I can sleep when Dick is home safe.”

“So you plan on staying awake for the next two days? You know, three days without sleep is too much even for you. And I don’t see how you sitting here brooding is helping Dick.”

He ignored him and Clark sighed. “You couldn’t have done anything, Bruce.”

“Yes I could. I’m Batman; I could have taken those men down in three minutes. But I didn’t even try; I just _let_ them take him.”

“Questions would have been asked if you had taken down five armed mercenaries, six if you count the driver.”

“But Dick would be here. He would be safe instead of God-knows-where with a bunch of dangerous men who have absolutely no qualms about hurting him!”

“And you think he’d be safe if you were exposed as Batman? Or him as Robin?”

Bruce scowled. He knew Clark was right, knew it even as he argued against his own inaction, but he still blamed himself. He was responsible for this. He clasped his hands in front of his mouth and stared out the window. “You know, I often wonder if I did the right thing by Dick when I took him in.”

“Bruce, how can you say that? You gave him a home, became a father to him! Not to mention the future you can offer him. If you hadn’t taken him in, he would have become a ward of the state. What future do you think he would have had then?”

“But he would have been safe,” said Bruce softly. “By making him my son, I’ve made Dick a target for every two-bit hood who thinks they can earn easy money by kidnapping him. I’ve put him in the path of men who think nothing of hurting or terrorizing a thirteen-year-old boy just to make me pay up.”

“And you think he would be better off without someone who cares about him? Somehow, I doubt Dick would agree.”

Bruce’s expression was troubled. “Except Dick doesn’t realise just how much he matters to me, he thinks I put the mission above everything…even him.”

Clark shook his head. “He doesn’t think that, Bruce.”

Bruce responded by swivelling his chair back around to face the desk and tapped out something on his computer. The screen flickered to life, revealing a still of Robin and Black Canary in a room at Mount Justice. He hit another button and the clip began to play.

Robin was hunched over, speaking in soft tones. “I always wanted…expected t-to grow up and…and become him. And the hero bit? I’m still all in. But that thing, inside of him...the thing t-that…that drives him to sacrifice everything for the sake of his mission…that’s not me. I…I don’t wanna be The Batman anymore.”*

Bruce paused the clip and looked up at Clark who was staring dumbstruck at the computer. “Bruce, where… _how_ did you get that? Those counselling sessions were supposed to be confidential! How could you invade his privacy like that!”

“I know I shouldn’t have, but I was concerned. Dick seemed so shut down and I couldn’t get him to talk to me. Now I understand why; he thinks the mission matters more to me than he does.”

“He doesn’t think that–”

“You heard him, Clark. He thinks I would sacrifice everything for the sake of the mission. But I wouldn’t. Not him. I would never sacrifice him.”

“I know that, Bruce,” Clark said gently. 

“But Dick doesn’t! He was afraid to talk to me because he didn’t want me to find out that he doesn’t want to be Batman anymore. He thinks I’ve been grooming Robin to take my place when everything I’ve done has been to stop him from turning out like me!” Bruce put a hand to his head. “Clark, I’m afraid that Dick thinks his only worth to me is as Robin, and I’ve failed him somewhere if he thinks that.”

Clark put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Dick knows you care about him.”

Bruce looked at him. “Are you sure about that? I’ve never given him any reason to believe otherwise. Almost everything we do together is structured around Batman and Robin. And even when it’s not, I’m using it as a lesson! Take last night; I thought Dick could learn some fighting manoeuvres from the Ultimate Fight Night, but when he wanted to go for pizza afterwards I said no because Batman had somewhere to be!” He buried his face in his hands. “I even told him to pare down his fighting when we were attacked! What kind of a father tells his son not to defend himself so well?”

“One who would do anything to protect him,” said Clark firmly. “You didn’t want those men to suspect that Dick might be anything other than an ordinary teenager. Everything you do, you do to protect that boy. And I’m not going to listen to you doubt yourself any longer. Bruce, the training exercise with Manhunter has rattled Dick, but not so much that he would doubt how much you love him! And if you think Dick doesn’t know that, then all you have to do is tell him when you get him back.”

The billionaire’s expression was haunted when he looked up. “But that’s just it, Clark, there’s something about these men that I don’t trust…I’m afraid that I won’t get Dick back.”

 **A/N:** *Clip taken from the episode Disordered.


	4. Chapter 4

Wally was restless as the team staked out their mission objective. They had been at Branthrope Incorporated for almost two hours without even the slightest inkling of anything even remotely out of the ordinary. Being Saturday afternoon, the only people in the building were Branston Daniels, a couple of scientists and two security guards…and from what Miss Martian had reported after she entered the building in camouflage mode, the scientists were the only ones who were actually working. The two security guards were playing cards at the front desk while Daniels yelled down the phone at his lawyers. 

He kicked a leg in frustration against the air vent he was sitting on. Remaining this inactive was hard enough for the impulsive speedster on a normal day, but today, when he was silently freaking out about his best friend, it was damn near impossible. 

He could feel Artemis’ eyes boring into him and sensed that she wanted to start quizzing him again. Determinedly, he kept his eyes averted. Of all the people to be paired with on this mission, why did he have to be partnered with the one person who would keep digging until she found out what was bothering him?

Wally knew he wasn’t helping matters by staying so quiet, but he was a lousy liar and the only hope he had of not giving away the real reason they were here was by keeping his mouth shut. 

It was just too bad that Artemis had other ideas. “Are you _ever_ going to speak?”

“I thought you preferred it when I didn’t talk.”

“Don’t get me wrong, normally you not talking is a big bonus, but right now it’s creeping me out. What gives?”

“Nothing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Could you be any less convincing?”

Probably not. He shifted again, trying to get comfortable. 

His silence didn’t deter her in the slightest. “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do I have to beat it out of you?”

Wally groaned inwardly. They had been having intermittent conversations like this for the last hour and he wished there was something he could say to make her drop it, but so far she was buying none of his excuses. And the more excuses he made, the more convinced she became that something was wrong. He made another attempt to put her off. “I still don’t see why you think there’s something wrong anyway.”

“You mean aside from the fact that a silent Kid Flash means somewhere pigs are flying? I’ve insulted you three times in the last hour and you haven’t reacted once!”

“Maybe I’m coming up with the perfect response.”

“If you have to think about it then it’s not perfect!” 

“Huh. I hadn’t thought about that.” 

He looked across the street at Branthrope Incorporated. He and Artemis were stationed on the roof of the building to the front of Branthrope, while the rest of the team were staking out the storage areas to the back. Wally couldn’t help but wish that he’d been partnered with Aqualad or Superboy on this mission; neither of them would be asking questions about what was bothering him, they’d just be happy he was quiet.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” she reminded him.

He sighed. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re like a dog with a bone?”

“Frequently. What’s the problem?”

“It’s my bone, drop it!”

“Touchy!”

Wally scowled. He had very good reason to be touchy. His best friend had been kidnapped, possibly hurt, and he couldn’t even talk to the rest of his friends about how worried he was. Instead, he had to try and pretend like everything was fine – even if he was fooling no one. The teenager had decided that it beyond sucked being the only one who knew Robin’s real identity.

“Wally–”

His frayed nerves caused him to snap. “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m fine! There’s nothing bothering me, I have nothing to talk about and everything is fine!” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, you sound fine. When you’re done having a mini-meltdown, you wanna take a look at the front of the building?”

Wally swung his head back around. A tall, thin man was approaching Branthrope, glancing around furtively as he did so. _Well, someone looks suspicious._

_“Aqualad, there’s someone entering the building,_ ” Artemis informed the others via the telepathic link. _“The guy looks a little suspicious.”_

The Atlantian responded. _“I will send Miss Martian in to assess the situation.”_

Wally hopped off the air vent and ran to the edge of the roof. He peered anxiously over the parapet. Finally! Maybe the arrival of this guy would give them some information. His hands clutched the wall tightly as he waited for Miss Martian to communicate from inside the building. His anxiety meant he was only half aware of Artemis’ hands-on-hips stance as her eyes bored into him.

It felt like forever before Miss Martian finally reported back to them. _“Guys, he’s here to see Daniels. They’re discussing the weapon that Branthrope is developing!”_

_“So Batman was right,”_ Aqualad interjected. _“Do they say what the weapon is or who they are developing it for?”_

_“No, they’re arguing about money – they’ve run out! This new guy wants to keep going with the project but Daniels is refusing without funding.”_

_“Who is the new guy?”_ Wally demanded impatiently.

_“I didn’t catch his name,”_ Miss Martian replied. _“But he’s claiming– guys, he’s storming out!”_

_“That was a quick visit,”_ Artemis commented. _“Did he just come here to argue about money?”_

_“I think so.”_ Miss Martian sounded surprised. _“He told Daniels that he found a new financial backer after Bruce Wayne pulled out…he said he could have the money by Wednesday.”_

Alarm bells rang in Wally’s head. _“What else did he say about this financial backer?”_

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Artemis shooting him a look, and realized that the question sounded more like something Robin rather than Kid Flash would ask.

_“Nothing,”_ Miss Martian responded. _“Daniels wanted to know how he could get his hands on that kind of money in just a few days, but he refused to say how so Daniels told him no. He said he didn’t trust him after the mess with Wayne Enterprises and that’s when the man stormed out.”_

Wally frowned. Something was majorly off here. _“I’m gonna follow him.”_

Aqualad immediately vetoed that plan. _“No. Superman was very clear; our orders were to watch Branthrope and Branston Daniels. He said to contact the League if anything important came up and I have just done so.”_

_“But this guy knows something!”_ Wally burst out. _“We can’t just let him leave!”_

“Maybe he does know something,” Aqualad agreed. _“But Superman insisted we remain hidden on this mission, and he reiterated its importance several times. If you follow this man you might reveal yourself. Let the League handle it.”_

_“But the guy is leaving now!”_ Wally argued. He watched as the stranger exited the building and climbed into a waiting car. The car pulled out. _“Aqualad, I’m going!”_

Before Aqualad could object or Artemis could stop him, Wally had backed up to give himself a running start and was speeding down the side of the building. He hit the street smoothly and immediately took off in pursuit of the car, while the voices of Aqualad and Artemis echoed in his head.

_“Kid, what are you doing?!”_

_“Wally, you moron, get back here!”_

He ignored them and kept going. Their objective may have been to find out about the weapon, but his intention was to find out about Dick. No way was he missing out on the opportunity of seeing if this guy knew something. 

Careful to remain out of sight of the car he was pursuing, Wally was so focused on his target and staying hidden that he didn’t notice the direction they were heading, leaving him stunned when they pulled up in front of Wayne Enterprises less than ten minutes later. He came to an abrupt stop and stared. _Wayne Enterprises? What’s he doing here?_

The man got out of the car and Wally ducked into the nearest alley where he watched him enter the building, torn about what to do. No way would he be able to get into Wayne Enterprises without being seen – something he was not at all keen to do after his conversation with his uncle – but something was clearly off here and he needed to find out what.

He wondered if maybe he should call Bruce? The man would want to know about this, even if it wasn’t connected to Dick’s kidnapping. But how weird would it be to call Bruce and would he say? Hi, just thought you’d like to know that a suspicious looking guy has entered your company? Wally’s conversations with Bruce were usually limited to “hi, how are you” and the weather. He found the man every bit as standoffish as Bruce Wayne as he was as Batman…no matter what Dick claimed to the contrary.

“Wally.”

The voice nearly made him jump out of his skin. He looked around but couldn’t see anyone.

“It’s me,” said Miss Martian, becoming visible. “I tracked your communicator. Aqualad sent me after you.”

Wally rolled his eyes. Of course he did. Then an idea stuck him. “Babe, this is perfect! You can go in after this guy and see what he’s up to!”

“What?” She looked nonplussed.

“The guy, the guy from Branthrope!” said Wally impatiently. “He just entered Wayne Enterprises! You can get in and spy on him!”

“But that’s not–”

“Please! This is really important!” Wally stared at her beseechingly, knowing M’gann found it hard to say no; she was too much of a people pleaser.

“Well…okay,” she agreed, still looking uncertain. “But if I do, do you promise to come straight back to Branthrope with me?”

He nodded vigorously. 

“I’ll try not to be too long.” With a last, scrutinising glance, she faded from view and Wally felt a soft whoosh as she flew past him, leaving him alone in the alley once more.

oOo

Miss Martian found Wayne Enterprises to be significantly busier than Branthrope Incorporated. The building was a hive of activity, with several security guards patrolling the premises while administrative clerks rushed about frantically with files. A few employees were talking rapidly on phones, apparently trying to pull money from several banks and financial institutions. There was a certain sense of urgency in their voices that she couldn’t help but take notice of. Something was definitely happening here.

It took her some time to locate the man from Branthrope and when she did, she was surprised to find him ensconced in one of the offices on the upper floors, arguing with an older, dark-skinned man.

“Can’t you talk to him, Lucius?” the man was saying, pacing in front of the desk that the older man was seated behind.

“Talk to him?!” answered Lucius sharply. “Jonah, have you lost your mind? Haven’t you been watching the news?”

“I heard about Dick. I don’t mean talk to him now, obviously! Have a chat with him after he gets Dick back safe and sound.”

The older man snorted. “I seriously doubt Bruce will be back into the office anytime soon; he’s frantic with worry about Dick’s safety, especially after that ransom call!”

Now she understood the urgency behind the phone calls in the other offices: that boy from the TV – they were trying to get money together to pay for a ransom demand.

The man – Jonah – frowned. “What happened during the ransom call?”

Lucius shook his head. “Bruce doesn’t know. All he knows is that he heard Dick scream.”

Jonah’s eyes widened in shock. “They hurt him?! How… _why?_ ”

Lucius looked angry. “To prove they mean business. They drugged him as well. Can you imagine drugging a thirteen-year-old? Worthless– Jonah, are you alright?”

He was frozen to the spot. “What? Oh…yes…yes, I’m fine.”

The other man looked concerned. “You’re gone very pale, Jonah. Do you need me to call a doctor?”

“No…no doctor. I…I think I’ll just get some air. Please excuse me, Lucius.”

He moved towards the door and the older man got to his feet. “Jonah, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes,” he waved his hand absently. “Just fine. Thank you, Lucius.”

He stumbled into the hall and Miss Martian followed him, taken aback by the waves of distress emanating from him. She followed him down the corridor where he stopped in front of another office and entered.

She slipped quickly through the door before he closed it, and watched as he crossed the room to the large mahogany desk beneath the window. He picked up the phone and punched in a number. With the receiver clutched tightly to his ear, Jonah drummed his fingers anxiously against the desk. One leg was jittering nervously.

“It’s me,” he said after a few moments, clearly responding to whoever was on the other end. “Yes, this is a secure line! It’s my office at Wayne Enterprises.”

Miss Martian was surprised. This man worked for both companies? Wasn’t that a conflict of interests?

“Will you shut up for a minute and stop worrying about that!” he snapped. “I just talked to Lucius Fox and he told me about the ransom call – did you hurt that kid?”

Miss Martian’s eyes widened and she floated closer to him.

The man closed his eyes. “You weren’t supposed to hurt him! You didn’t _need_ to hurt him; no one is more important to Bruce than Dick! He’ll pay any money to get him back.”

Anger was rolling off the man now, mixing in with the distress. Miss Martian could see his hands tighten on the phone and his eyes snapped open. “I don’t care how you normally do things! Dick is a good kid; you promised me he wouldn’t be hurt!”

Her heart started to beat a little faster. This man was a kidnapper! Wally had been right to follow him.

Jonah slammed a fist onto the desk. “That wasn’t our agreement! You said–”

She watched as he covered his eyes and remained silent for several minutes. Finally, he bowed his head. “I understand,” he whispered, before putting down the phone and staring blankly out the window. 

Miss Martian attempted to read his mind to see if she could discover more, but was startled when the only thought that echoed in his head was, _“Dear God, what have I done?”_


	5. Chapter 5

Wally didn’t hear Aqualad and Miss Martian reporting the team’s findings to Superman. In fact, he’d hardly even been aware of the trip back to Mount Justice. M’gann’s discovery at Wayne Enterprises had shocked him deeply; someone Dick _knew_ was behind his kidnapping? Someone Bruce probably trusted? He couldn’t wrap his head around it. And from what M’gann had said, it sounded like Dick had been hurt. Wally felt sick when he thought about his friend, alone and hurt with his kidnappers.

“Wally!” Someone poked him hard.

He jerked. “Huh?” Artemis was standing in front of him with her arms crossed. He looked around; the rest of the team were watching him with raised eyebrows and Superman was frowning warningly at him. He looked back at Artemis. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Ugh!” she groaned in frustration, throwing her hands up and turning back to the team. “See what I mean?” 

M’gann flew over and landed beside him. “Wally, are you okay?” 

At any other time, Wally would have been delighted to be the centre of attention for two gorgeous girls, but right now, he wished their concerned stares were aimed at anyone other than him. He forced a too-bright smile. “Me? I’m just fine, babe, what about you?” 

She tilted her head uncertainly to one side. “You don’t seem fine. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Never been better, babe,” he smiled, leaning in closer to her and turning the cocky up to eleven. 

But his act wasn’t fooling Artemis. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been acting weird all day – even for you!”

Wally scowled at her. “Acting weird doesn’t mean there’s something wrong.”

“Oh, really. Then what does it mean?”

“How is this relevant to the mission?” Superman interrupted, frowning. “Artemis, if something is bothering Wally then that’s his business.”

She blushed slightly.

The Kryptonian turned to face the others. “Good work today, team. The League will take it from here.” 

Superman nodded to them and turned to leave, and Wally had to fight the urge to ask him if the League would get involved in Dick’s kidnapping now that they knew it was connected to the weapon that Branthrope were developing. He didn’t want to make Artemis any more suspicious than she already was. Biting his lip, he watched miserably as Superman left to report to the Justice League, hoping they would at least keep him updated.

“Wally.”

Artemis was still watching him. His heart sank. Was she going to start quizzing him again now that Superman had left? He stiffened. “Yeah?”

She shuffled awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to give you such a hard time today. But you seemed tense and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. 

“And I wasn’t being nosy,” she continued, looking uncomfortable. “I just thought you might know Dick Grayson or something.”

His heart almost stopped. “How would I know Dick Grayson?”

“I don’t know but you’ve been acting weird ever since the news report about his kidnapping.”

He cringed inwardly; he really had been too obvious about that. Forcing a laugh, he tried to downplay it. “It was only because it was Gotham City that it got my attention… I mean, come on, how would I know some rich kid from Gotham?”

“I guess it is pretty weird that a freshman from Gotham Academy would know a sophomore who goes to a public high school in Central City.”

“Exactly– hang on! How do you know where he goes to school?” Wally demanded before he could stop himself.

Her eyes widened. “Uh…I…guessed. He’s rich and…and Gotham Academy is the most elite school in Gotham, so…yeah.”

Wally could tell she was lying. “But how do you know he’s in high school?”

“Ahem…I…he…he looks like a freshman. Yeah, that’s it, he looks like a freshman.”

Wally raised a bemused eyebrow. Artemis was an even worse liar than he was! And Dick didn’t look anything like a freshman; he was smaller and skinnier than most thirteen-year-olds, never mind most freshmen!

He frowned at her suspiciously. Did she know something?

“Why are we talking about the kid who was kidnapped?” Superboy wanted to know.

Artemis shrugged. “You got me. So, mission completed; anyone want to go for pizza to celebrate?”

She was deliberately changing the subject. Wally’s frown deepened. Artemis was clearly hiding something… But wouldn’t Dick have told him if she knew he was Robin? Or maybe she had something else to hide? Either way, he wasn’t going to call her on it; he was just glad to be off the hook.

As the rest of the team started to argue about pizza toppings and where they would go to celebrate, Wally reverted to his silent funk…except now he wasn’t just fretting about his missing friend, he was also musing on just how much Artemis knew.

oOo

Clark finished telling Bruce about the team’s discovery that afternoon, then watched with growing apprehension as his friend’s face darkened to a dangerous red.  
“That son-of-a-bitch!” Bruce swore, slamming the palms of his hands into the desk and getting to his feet so fast that he sent the chair he had been sitting in crashing to the floor. “I’ll kill him! I swear to God I’ll kill him!”

Clark held his hands up in pacifying gesture, already beginning to regret telling him. “Bruce, think about this. You can’t go after Jonah, how would you explain knowing about his role in Dick’s kidnapping when the police have no clue?”

“ _I don’t care!_ ” Bruce snarled. “That bastard is involved in the kidnapping of my son! He’s been employed by Wayne Enterprises for the last fifteen years! I trusted him!” 

“Bruce, I know this is hard but–” 

“Hard?! Hard doesn’t even begin to cover it! Jonah Harris has known Dick since he was nine-years-old and he willingly handed him over to men he knew could hurt him!” 

Fury blanketed his features and Clark tried to appease him. “From what Miss Martian said, those men were never supposed to hurt Dick. Miss Martian said Jonah became angry when he found out about that.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!” 

Clark winced. Bruce looked like he just might combust with rage. “You’re right it doesn’t. But you need to calm down so we can figure out a strategy.”

“I already have a strategy.”

Uh-oh, Clark knew that look; Jonah Harris was going to get a visit from Batman. “Bruce, listen to me–”

“Clark, don’t try to talk me out of it.” His hands bunched into fists. “I won’t let him get away with this!” He stalked out from behind the desk, ripping off his tie as he made for the large grandfather clock by the bookcase. 

“What are you going to do?” 

“What I need to,” he answered shortly, spinning the hands of the clock to 10.47; the time of his parents’ death. The clock swung open to reveal the steps leading down to the batcave. Bruce descended into the darkness, shedding his jacket as he did so.

“And how are you going to explain Batman knowing about Jonah’s involvement in Dick’s kidnapping?” Clark demanded, hot on his heels.

Bruce didn’t answer, removing his shirt as he stalked into the dressing room and slammed the door.

“Bruce, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Clark shouted through the door. “You’re too close to this!” There was no answer. “Bruce, do you hear me?”

After a minute, the door opened and Bruce re-emerged, pulling on his cape and cowl. His face was dark with anger. “Don’t worry, Clark,” Batman’s familiar growl sounded. “I won’t hurt him…much.”

oOo

Jonah’s hand shook as he poured himself a very large brandy. His nerves were a shattered mess. 

Five years ago when he had bought almost forty percent worth of shares in Branthrope Incorporated, he had thought it would be his retirement nest egg. He had never dreamed that the company would skate so close to the edge of financial ruin or that he would have to resort to such desperate measures just to keep it afloat. 

The first time he had been forced into dealing on the black market had been when a low-grade polymer that Branthrope developed didn’t pass the required safety standards, meaning they were unable to market it. Letting all that research and money go to waste would have bankrupted the already struggling company, and with everything he owned tied up in Branthrope, Jonah couldn’t afford to let that happen. So he had reasoned that it would be okay to trade illegally just this one time to get the company back on its feet.  
He moved to the window, slowly sipping the brandy. He hadn’t bargained on the economic crash nearly decimating the company’s profits. What had started as a desperate attempt to save Branthrope Incorporated from going under had become common place. By the time the deal with Wayne Enterprises had come up, Branthrope was up to its neck in criminal operations. That was why Jonah had brokered the deal in the first place; a successful partnership between the two companies would have helped salvage Branthrope’s finances once and for all, negating the need to keep trading in less than honest business ventures. He just had to be very careful to hide his involvement with Branthrope from Bruce so that the man would not suspect any ulterior motives on his behalf.

Sighing, he stared out the window of his penthouse apartment; the twinkling lights of the city and his own image reflected back at him in the dark of the evening. It had all been going so perfectly until Bruce had found out about the damned prototype. Jonah still hadn’t been able to determine how he had found out about it, only a select few knew of its existence; trusted staff who were happy to keep quiet so long as they were being paid, and the men who had commissioned the weapon.

A dark shadow moved outside his window and he blinked. Suddenly, there was a shattering of glass as a black-gloved hand smashed through the window and grabbed him by the throat. Liquid splashed down the front of his shirt as he dropped the brandy glass. Before Jonah knew what was happening, he was being dragged through the window into the night air.

He screamed as he was propelled upwards by some dark creature and flung onto the roof of his apartment building. Scrabbling backwards on his hands and feet, he tried to get away from the creature advancing on him slowly. “Wh-what do you want?”

“Information,” the thing growled at him, seizing him by the front of his shirt and hauling him to his feet. The eyes in its face were slits and Jonah was horrified when he realized that this was Gotham’s legendary Batman.

“In-information? Wh-what sort of information?”

“Lets start with the weapon Branthrope are developing; who’s it for?”

Jonah stared at him, shocked. “How do you know about that?”

“Answer the question!” 

“The Gulf Cartel!” he squeaked.

“The Mexican crime syndicate?” 

Jonah nodded. 

“How did Branthrope become involved with them?”

Jonah lowered his head in shame. “We’ve dealt with them in the past – mostly drugs that we couldn’t market – but they sought us out this time. They heard about the deal with Wayne Enterprises and made us an offer if we built them a weapon. Their territory war with Los Zetas has escalated and some of the drug lords believe they can defeat the Zetas once and for all with the right firepower.”

“And you said yes! You agreed to develop a potentially devastating weapon for one of the most violent drug cartels on the planet!” Batman shook him hard before throwing him to the ground.

Jonah cowered. “When I say they made us an offer, it was one we literally couldn’t refuse! We owe them money…they threatened us!”

“You could have gone to the police.”

Jonah gave a snort of bitter laughter. “I would have been dead in less than a day. These men have friends in high places, and even more in the prison system.”

“What about Dick Grayson? How does he figure in all of this?”

Jonah gawped. How had Batman managed to uncover _that_? “We only got as far as developing a prototype before Bruce found out and pulled the funding. I needed to get the money somewhere…”

“And kidnapping was the only way to do it?” 

“I…I was desperate–” 

“And that makes it okay to put an innocent boy in the hands of violent criminals?!”

The rage coming from Batman was palpable and Jonah recoiled. “It was just supposed to be a simple kidnapping! Sixty million to me and twenty to the kidnappers! I knew Bruce would pay – Dick was never supposed to get hurt!”

“What changed?” Batman demanded, his huge frame looming over Jonah.

“The men I hired, the mercenaries, they work for the Gulf Cartel– I didn’t know!” he added as Batman seized him violently. “We’ve used them in the past, I had no idea they were Sicarios! I only found out today!”

“Where is the boy?”

“I don’t know…I swear!” he screamed as Batman shook him hard. “I just hired them, gave them the information about where and when to find Dick – everything else after that was up to them!” 

The Batman growled at him and Jonah whimpered, holding one hand up in a pleading gesture. “Please believe me, I never intended for Dick to get hurt. I didn’t know these men worked for the cartel – I would never have hired them if I did!”

“Because you know their reputation as kidnappers, what they’re capable of?”

“Because I didn’t want the cartel to know that I’d run out of money before I’d even finished developing their weapon,” Jonah answered miserably.

“You mean you were more worried about your own hide than the boy you handed over to them!” Batman snarled at him, clutching the front of Jonah’s shirt tightly. 

The businessman nodded, ashamed.

Batman threw him to the ground again. “You disgust me,” he told Jonah. “What happens now the cartel know you haven’t finished their weapon?”

Jonah buried his face in his hands. “They’re keeping the ransom. They said it will cover what Branthrope owes the cartel, as well as what they paid for the weapon.”

“Letting you off the hook.”

Jonah shook his head, his face still buried in his hands. “No,” he whispered. “They said I owe them for lying. I have to give them the prototype and all the associated research; they’re going to finish developing it.” He looked up at Batman. “But I don’t have access to all of the research for the Waynetech nanites. Bruce didn’t give Branthrope full access to that technology; he was waiting for us to advance enough in our own research to begin the final phase of the project.”

“Another reason why you weren’t able to finish the weapon,” Batman concluded. 

Jonah nodded. “I was more worried about getting enough money to finish the weapon than the science. I thought that with enough money we could still develop it. But it doesn’t matter now; I’m dead once they know I can’t give them all the research.”

Batman was silent as he stared down at Jonah. The man couldn’t help but tremble; not for nothing did the scum of Gotham fear this man. 

With a jolt of horrified awareness, he realized that he could now count himself amongst them. His dealings with the criminal underworld over the last few years had contributed to that membership, but it was the selling of an innocent boy to a bunch of dangerous men that cemented it. He swallowed miserably. He really was nothing but a worthless piece of garbage.

He looked up at Batman. He had heard that the vigilante was capable of some extraordinary feats; maybe he could fix this God-awful mess. “Batman, I don’t know where they’re keeping Dick, but I can give you the means by which I contact them. Maybe it can help you find him.”

The masked face was stone granite. “Why would you do that?”

“I’m dead anyway once these men figure out that I can’t give them what they want. The least I can do is try and make amends.” Jonah sighed, feeling wretched. “I like Dick; he’s a good kid and I never wanted him to get hurt… I haven’t been able to get him out of my head since I found out they broke his fingers.” 

Batman started visibly, his jaw tightening. “How do I contact them?”

Jonah fished in his pocket and withdrew his wallet. Opening it, he pulled out a slip of paper. “That’s the phone number that I’ve been using to contact them; maybe it can give you something that will lead you to them.”

Batman took the proffered paper and stared down at Jonah. The man wiggled uncomfortably then clambered to his feet. Maybe Batman would be less intimidating if they were eye to eye. He glanced at the caped crusader then shrank back. Still terrifying. “What are you going to do with me?”

“Nothing.”

Jonah was stunned. “Nothing?”

“By your own admission you’re already a dead man, I don’t need to do anything.” Batman paused and fixed him with a grim expression. “However, if you really do want to make amends for what you’ve done, turn yourself in. Talk to Commissioner Gordon, tell him everything. He might be able to protect you.”

The older man’s mouth hung open. “I don’t understand.”

“I have more important things to worry about than worthless scumbags like you.” Batman leaned towards him and his voice became a low growl. “But make no mistake, Harris, if any further harm comes to the Grayson boy, the cartel will be the least of your worries.”

Without another word, the Batman produced a grapple gun and discharged a line, before swinging off into the night and leaving Jonah on the roof with nothing but the shards of his conscience for company.


	6. Chapter 6

Clark arrived in the Batcave on Sunday afternoon to find Bruce still in his Batman garb with the cowl pulled back, surrounded by files and pouring over numbers on a computer screen. “Have you been up all night _again_?” he demanded irritably. “Bruce, this is insane; you need to get some sleep!”

The billionaire ignored his comments, never taking his eyes from the screen. “How did it go at the station?” 

Clark sighed in exasperation. “You were right; Jonah Harris handed himself in to Commissioner Gordon this morning.”

Bruce nodded, still not taking his gaze from the numbers running sequences on the screen. It looked like double-dutch to Clark, but it must have made sense to Bruce because his frown was deepening each time the numbers began a new sequence.

Clark joined him at the computer. “Are you sure it was a good idea for Jonah to turn himself in before the ransom drop? These men won’t be too happy when they find out he’s ratting them out.”

“I trust Gordon, that’s why I suggested him. He won’t release any information about Jonah until after tomorrow.”

“It’s a big Police Department and he’s the Police Commissioner; he can’t keep watch on Jonah until then. He’s going to have to trust someone, Bruce.”

“He will. Detective Bullock.”

“Bullock.” Clark wrinkled his forehead. “The cranky guy that Alfred says looks like an unmade bed?”

“He’s Gordon’s right hand man and– Dammit!” he slammed a fist into the computer console.

“What’s wrong?”

“The number Jonah gave me is useless; they’re using a satellite phone.”

“So?”

Bruce fixed him with one of Batman’s you’re-an-idiot glares. “So, I can’t pinpoint an exact location. Satellite phones bypass terrestrial channels.”

“Which explains how they were able to bypass the police tracing system. Can’t you use a satellite to track them?”

“No.” Bruce scowled. “LEO systems have the ability to track a mobile unit’s location using Doppler shift calculations from the satellite which can be inaccurate by tens of kilometers. I ran some diagnostics but came up with nothing.” His scowl deepened. “These men are good; they used some very high-end equipment to bounce the signal between several satellites – I can’t even pinpoint their location to within a few hundred kilometers.”

“So Jonah’s intel was worthless?”

“Yes.”

Clark sighed, feeling some of Bruce’s frustration. These men could teach the League a thing or two about staying hidden.

“Did you find out anything about the cartel?” the billionaire wanted to know. 

“Nothing you didn’t already know. The Gulf Cartel doesn’t seem to have any connection to the US outside of the Southern states. Los Zetas have territory in New Jersey…but didn’t Jonah specifically state it was the Gulf Cartel who has Dick?”

“He said they had worked with the Gulf Cartel in the past, and that they had used these men as mercenaries before. It was the kidnappers who told him they were part of the cartel.”

“You don’t think they are?”

“I’m not sure. The way in which they used the satellite phone and hid the signal is extremely technologically advanced – the MO is more in line with Los Zetas than the Gulf Cartel; Los Zetas are known to be the more technologically sophisticated cartel.” His expression soured.

Clark knew that look. “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

“Los Zetas are winning the territory war against the Gulf Cartel; they have more men and more firepower. They don’t need this weapon from Branthrope.”

“Do you think there’s something else at play here?”

“I don’t _know_!”

Clark realized his friend’s nerves were fraying fast. He put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get him back, Bruce, you’ll see.”

There was no response.

“Bruce?”

He looked up and his eyes were shadowed with fear. “Clark, how much did you read on the cartels?”

“Everything about the territory war between the two cartels and their connections here in the US…why?”

“So you don’t know anything about their history as kidnappers?”

“Not a lot.” He paused. “Do I want to?”

“Probably not but it’s important.” Bruce rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Both cartels have a long history of kidnapping, usually political. They use it as a means to threaten or coerce their enemies. But in the last few years there have been several instances of kidnapping for monetary gain… Only a handful of the victims were returned alive.”

Clark’s jaw tightened. “Were the ransoms paid?”

“In every case but one.” He buried his face in his hands.

The Kryptonian was silent for several minutes before responding. “Bruce, I think it’s time to involve the League.”

His head snapped up. “Absolutely not! If they were seen–”

“Dick’s kidnapping ties in with the weapon Branthrope was developing for the cartel,” Clark pointed out. “It gives the League a reason to get involved without raising any questions.” 

Bruce was shaking his head. “No. Clark, I can’t risk it. If they find out the League is involved…Dick…there’s no telling what they’ll do!”

“Then we don’t get the entire League involved,” Clark replied. “Just enough of us to make sure the ransom drop goes down as it should.”

oOo

Wally’s legs were jittering nervously as he worked his way through a large bag of snickerdoodles while simultaneously flicking through the television channels at high speed. He was sick with nerves: it was Monday morning and Bruce was paying the ransom today. Wally hadn’t been able to sleep thinking about it. He didn’t know why but every time he closed his eyes he saw Dick dead or dying. A horrible chill of foreboding stole over him and he shook himself hard. _No! Bruce is paying the ransom; Dick will be fine. In a few hours, we’ll be laughing and joking over pizza._

His rapid channel surfing became more frantic. He had no intention of going to school today. Sit in a classroom and listen to a bunch of windbags drone on about unimportant crap while money was exchanged for the life of his best friend? Hell, no! 

But his folks would have been pretty pissed if they knew he was skipping school so Wally had decided to wait it out at Mount Justice. Aside from being somewhere to pass the nerve-wracking hours until Bruce paid the ransom and got Dick back, it was also the best place to get an instant report on how it went.

“Well, would you look at that,” Artemis’ voice sounded behind him causing him to choke on one of his snacks. “Looks like we aren’t the only ones playing hooky.”

Coughing and with his eyes watering, Wally turned to find the rest of the team framed in the doorway to the living room. Superboy had his arms crossed and was scowling as usual, while M’gann hovered beside him, biting her lip. Kaldur was leaning against the doorframe, a calm expression on his face. Artemis stood in front of them, hands on hips, smirking at him. They were all in uniform.

“What…ack!” he coughed, thumping his chest with his fist. “What’s – ack! – going on? Do you guys have a mission or something?”

“Actually, it is more like a mission we did not finish,” Kaldur replied.

Wally raised an eyebrow. “Oooookay, cryptic much?”

“Not really. You see, when we went for pizza on Saturday night we decided that maybe we were a little premature in our celebrations.”

“You know, the pizza you decided not to join us for?” Artemis put in. “That got us a little bit worried; its one of those things – like when a dog doesn’t eat? Or a Kid Flash as the case may be…”

“…that is when you know something is really wrong,” Kaldur finished. 

“You guys are hilarious,” Wally huffed, rolling his eyes. “Get to the point.”

“Well, it was obvious the mission wasn’t over for you,” said Artemis. “So when Superboy overheard some interesting information last night, we kinda thought maybe we should finish things.”

Wally’s eyes narrowed. “Information?”

Superboy shrugged. “It’s the super-hearing; sometimes I hear things I’m not supposed to…like Flash telling Red Tornado about a ransom exchange–”

“Ransom exchange!” Wally was on his feet now. “What about it?”

“The League are getting involved in that kidnapping from Gotham,” Superboy answered. “Something about a Mexican drug cartel being the buyer for that weapon? The kidnappers work for them.”

Wally’s stomach churned. _Not good._ “What are the League doing?”

“They are going to follow the kidnappers from the ransom drop to locate the cartel’s stronghold in this country,” Kaldur replied. “And they are going to make sure the ransom drop goes according to plan so that the boy who was kidnapped is returned alive.”

“Whywouldtheyneedtomakesurehe’sreturnedalive?” Wally spouted in panic. “If the ransom is paid then it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

Kaldur frowned. “I am sure the League are just being cautious.”

Wally tried to get a handle on his emotions; he needed to stop freaking out or the team’s suspicions would get even worse. _Come on, man, get a grip; they already know something is up…stay cool. The League are getting involved, it’s all going to be fine. Dick will be fine._ “So what’s our mission?” he demanded. “If the League are involved then they don’t exactly need our help.”

“Except it’s not the entire League,” Artemis told him, “just Superman, Wonder Woman and Flash. They’re keeping it low-key so they don’t tip the kidnappers off, and we thought we should tag along as well…just in case.”

“And Superboy overheard all that in one conversation?”

Artemis nodded. “Weird, huh? Why was Flash even reporting that to Red Tornado? Don’t they usually do debriefs and reports on the Watchtower?”

Wally shrugged.

“The reasons for the report do not matter,” Kaldur pointed out. “What matters is that we have a mission to fulfil. Wally, are you coming?”

He hesitated. Action sounded a hell of a lot better than sitting around here all day chewing on his nerves, but the team were doing this for him; if he went with them, would he have to explain why this kidnapping bothered him so much? Wally didn’t think he could hide his real feelings on this mission – his emotions were running too high. And with the team already clued in to the fact that something was different about this kidnapping, it wouldn’t take very much for them to make the connection between Dick Grayson and Robin.

Truthfully, Wally was surprised that they hadn’t done so already; his actions had been a complete wall of weird this weekend.

Artemis caught his hesitation and her expression softened. “Wally, we know that this is important to you, but I promise, none of us will ask why. I shouldn’t have pried like I did on Saturday.” Her voice dropped to a mumble. “I’m sorry.”

Wally cupped his ear. “Sorry, didn’t catch that; what did you say?”

She punched him in the arm. “You heard me! So, you in?”

Wally couldn’t help but smile. “I’m in.”

oOo

Bruce stood staring out the window of his study, one hand on the back of his leather chair as he absently swivelled it back and forth. Sunlight was just beginning to crest the tops of the trees and he could hear the occasional chirrup of birds too hardy to migrate south for the winter. But other than the chirping of birds and the soft tick-tock of the grandfather clock, Wayne Manor was deathly silent. And while Bruce normally preferred silence, right now he hated it with every fibre of his being. The house felt too quiet, too big, too empty without the sound of Dick’s laughter and exuberant energy running through it. Had it felt this cavernous before he had taken Dick in? He couldn’t remember.  
Bruce was really starting to realize just how much Dick made this huge old manor feel like home.

He gave a heavy sigh. The worry and fear that had started with Dick’s kidnapping had grown into a deep, gnawing ache in his chest. The idea of this awful, oppressive silence becoming permanent didn’t bear thinking about, the idea that Dick might not survive– 

A door slammed shut in his mind. He wasn’t capable of entertaining that possibility.

“Bruce?” Clark’s voice sounded behind him and he turned. Superman stood in the door of his study. 

It caused Bruce considerable pain to imagine what Dick’s gleeful reaction would have been on seeing Superman in full costume in the main body of the house; Alfred didn’t allow any uniforms above the cave, and even the man of steel was not exempt from that rule. Robin had spent many long, uneventful stakeouts pondering what Alfred would do if someone broke that rule.

Today, however, Alfred was making an exception; circumstances demanded it. “Are they in place?” Bruce asked, and Superman nodded.

“Wonder Woman is in the air, Flash is hiding in the trees. We’ll follow as soon as you leave.”

“And you’ll stay hidden?” he asked anxiously.

“Yes! Bruce, relax, we know what to do.” 

“I can’t. There’s so much that can go wrong and…” He stiffened, swallowing hard.

“So much to lose?” Superman prompted gently.

He nodded. That was an understatement; he had everything to lose.

“Just a few more hours and this will all be over.”

“Right now, Clark, a few hours feels more like an eternity. Did you see any police when you scouted the area?”

“The area is clear. Gordon kept his word.”

Bruce closed his eyes and exhaled. He had spoken with the Police Commissioner the night before and begged him to make sure neither he nor any of his men came near the manor this morning. Gordon hadn’t been happy about that, but these men could be watching him and he wasn’t giving them any reason to harm Dick. Speaking of which… He opened his eyes and looked at the clock. “It’s almost time, Clark.”

“I’ll join Diana. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one sees me leave.” His eyes met his friend’s. “Bruce, it’ll be alright, you’ll see.”

Then he was gone, the papers on his desk rustling in the wake of his exit. Bruce wished he could share Superman’s conviction but he was too sick with worry; his whole world was at stake here. Sitting down, he looked at the clock. Just after seven. His heart began to rattle against his ribcage, any minute now…

The phone rang. “Right on time,” Bruce muttered before picking it up. “Hello?”

“Much faster this time, you’re learning,” laughed the familiar harsh tone of the kidnapper he had spoken to before. “Do you have the money?”

Bruce gritted his teeth. “Yes. Now let me talk to Dick.”

“I thought you might say that. Here, kid, Daddy wants to say hello.”

There was the sound of shuffling followed by a soft, “’lo?”

“Dick.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Are you alright? Have they hurt you?”

“Hurssss.”

“What hurts? What did they do?” 

“I don…see…s’dark…” 

Bruce closed his eyes. Dick was so out of it, he couldn’t even hold a conversation. “Dick, it’s going to be okay. I’m paying these men and then you’re coming home with me, do you understand?”

“Home…m’ not…there…”

He gnashed his teeth, wanting to wring their necks with his bare hands. “You will be soon, Dick, I promise. Just hang in there, kiddo, this will all be over soon.” He longed to put his arms around his son.

“Don’…like…s’dark…”

Hand gripping the phone tightly, he mentally swore bloody vengeance on these men. “Dick, listen to me; I am coming for you. Do you hear me? I am coming for you!”

“Oh, for Chrissake!” The kidnapper was back on the line. “Wayne, the kid doesn’t even know you’re there. He’s alive, you heard him. Now let’s talk swap.”

“Where and when?” Bruce managed to grind out, struggling to contain his fury.

“The Gotham Mall Parking Garage in one hour. Drive to the red zone in level C. And remember, any cops and the kid is dead.”

“There won’t be any police, I guarantee it. Just don’t hurt him.”

“So long as you keep following orders, the kid will stay breathing. One hour, Wayne.”

The line went dead and Bruce got to his feet, placing the phone back in its cradle. His gaze went to the picture on his desk; the one of him and Dick on the deck of a sailboat after they had been scuba diving in Australia last year. “Hang on, Dickie,” he whispered to Dick’s laughing features, using the old nickname that Dick had insisted they drop when he turned twelve. “I’m coming.”


	7. Chapter 7

Bruce pulled into a space in the parking garage and shut off the car. He took a deep breath and looked around. Seeing only a handful of cars, he frowned. The kidnappers had chosen well: this section of the parking structure was the furthest from the mall and usually pretty empty except for peak shopping times such as Christmas when parking was at a premium. Moreover, it was located close to the I-95 which would allow for a quick exit from Gotham City. His hands tightened on the steering wheel – it was yet another example of how cautious and well trained the men holding his son were.

His eyes went to the clock in the dashboard: 8.13. Glancing at the entrance he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Where were they? These men didn’t strike him as the type to be late – everything about Dick’s kidnapping had been timed to precision and he doubted the ransom drop would be any different. He was so focused on the entrance that he didn’t see a dark shadow creep up behind his car until the rear door opened.

“Don’t turn around!” an accented voice ordered, and Bruce felt the cold metal of a gun at his neck. “Keep your hands on the steering wheel.”

Bruce complied. “Where’s Dick?”

“I will be directing you to the drop off point.”

“No! That wasn’t the deal! Where is he?” Bruce moved to turn around but the butt of the gun pressed into his cheek.

“I told you not to turn around. Listen to me very closely, Wayne. I have a phone in my hand: if you do not do what I say, it only takes one word from me and they will kill him. Am I understood?”

Bruce gritted his teeth. “Yes.”

“Good. Now, where is the money?”

“In the trunk.”

“Then start the car.”

“I’m not moving until I know Dick is okay!”

“Don’t play with us, Wayne, I’m warning you.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened until it hurt. “I didn’t get to where I am by being an idiot. This car goes nowhere until I get proof that he’s alive.”

“You want proof? I’ll give you proof.”

Bruce heard the electronic tap tap of a phone keypad, then the man behind him spoke. “It’s me. Wayne refuses to move until he knows the kid is alive.” A phone was shoved to his ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the man behind him growled.

Bruce ignored him, focusing his anxious attention on the phone instead. “Dick?”

“Brusss? Wherrrr…you?” His words were still slurred but he sounded slightly more lucid than he had an hour ago.

“I’m on my way, buddy,” said Bruce. “I’ll be there soon.”

Without warning, Dick screamed and Bruce jerked. “DICK! Dick! What’s wrong?! What happened?!”

Ragged gasps sounded on the other end and Bruce’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. “Dick, talk to me!” he begged. “PLEASE!”

“M…here…Ngh!” The call disconnected.

“NO!” Bruce yelled as the phone was removed from his ear. He tried to turn around but met resistance from the gun once more. “What did they do?” he demanded, his heart racing.

“Something painful, no doubt. You were warned, Wayne, don’t play with us. Now, if you want him to keep breathing, start up the car and follow my directions.”

His hands were trembling with rage and fear as he started the car. He had no choice but to do as ordered. Dick’s life depended on it. Bruce gritted his teeth. If he ever got the chance, he would show these men the full wrath of the Batman.

The car left the parking garage and his thoughts went to the League members who were following them discreetly. Silently he thanked Clark for convincing him to get them involved because he had a horrible feeling that this ransom drop was not going to be as simple as he had hoped. 

As they left the vicinity of the Gotham Mall, Bruce suspected that he was correct in his assumptions that they had chosen this location for its proximity to the I-95. Every indication pointed to the man’s directions leading them that way. He was proven correct when less than ten minutes later, they came off-ramp onto the I-95 heading south out of Gotham. 

The car was painfully silent as they drove. The man only spoke to give directions and Bruce sure as hell wasn’t about to try and engage him in conversation when every cell in his body was longing to smash his face in. He spent the journey studying the man through his movements in the back. He was unable to see him as he was seated directly behind him and kept his face out of range of Bruce’s mirror; a caution that indicated training. He had also lowered his gun the second the car left the garage so as not to draw attention to them, suggesting he was comfortable in the level of control they had over Bruce.

The billionaire scowled. He was right about that; the threat to Dick’s life was more than enough to keep him compliant.

They had been driving for almost an hour when the man ordered him to take exit 531. Leaving the interstate made Bruce wonder just how far these men had taken Dick. He could be in another state for all he knew.

However, just twenty minutes later, the man told him to take a right onto a small dirt track. Bruce’s heart quickened when he caught sight of the van parked up ahead. “Pull in here,” the man behind him instructed.

He did as ordered, his heart beating hard against his chest.

“Turn off the engine, keep your hands on the steering wheel.” 

Bruce obeyed, his eyes never leaving the vehicle up ahead. Was Dick in it? 

The driver’s door opened and a masked man got out and came towards them. He stopped at Bruce’s door and opened it. “Get out,” he ordered in clipped tones.

Anger rankled at Bruce as he climbed out of the car, his eyes never leaving the masked face. Obeying these men was the last thing he felt like doing – his instincts were more along the lines of breaking their necks – but Dick was counting on him. 

“Take off your jacket,” the man instructed, “hand it to me, then turn and face the car with your hands on the roof.”

Bruce gritted his teeth so tightly he thought he heard one crack. Shrugging off his jacket, he handed it to the man. The back door opened and the man who had directed him from Gotham climbed out. Bruce saw that he was now wearing a mask as well.

He turned and put his hands on the car roof, grasping it so tightly that if he had been Superman, chunks would have broken off in his hands. From behind came the sensation of being searched; the men were checking his clothes for tracking devices and radio transmitters. Bruce closed his eyes in thanks that he hadn’t allowed Clark to talk him into wearing a comm. link.

“Very good,” the man said when he was satisfied that Bruce wasn’t wired. “Now, very slowly, turn around and hand me your car keys.”

His rage was building to a crashing crescendo as he obeyed. “Where’s Dick?” he demanded as the first man handed him back his jacket.

“I will take you to him,” the second man informed him. “First, we make sure all the money is there.” He handed the keys to the other man just as Bruce exploded.

“I don’t think so! What the hell kind of fool do you take me for?! Where’s Dick? I want to see him, NOW!”

The man’s eyes were a steely grey and they narrowed behind the balaclava. “Wayne, you were shown the consequences of not doing as ordered just a short while ago. Do not force us to use the boy to teach you another lesson, because the next one will be more permanent than a few broken fingers.”

Bruce swallowed hard. He could hear the other man rooting in the trunk and opening the money bags but that didn’t concern him, his only concern right now was for Dick. “I have done everything you’ve asked,” he growled, fighting to keep his anger and worry under control. “You have your money, there are no police…I don’t care where you go now – I just want my son back!”

“Then keep doing what you’re told.”

He was dangerously close to hitting him. “Why this charade? We weren’t followed from Gotham and you can see I’m not wired…this caution isn’t necessary!”

“I disagree. You may not have been followed here but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a GPS transmitter somewhere in your car. You’re an important man and the police may not be so keen to let Gotham’s Golden Boy out of their sight, especially when they know who we really are.” He leaned towards Bruce and spoke in a low voice. “You think we don’t know about Jonah Harris turning himself in?”

His heart thudded to a stop. “I don’t care about Jonah Harris! I don’t care who you are! All I care about is getting Dick back!”

“Then do what you’re damn well told!” the man snarled at him. 

Bruce gritted his teeth and counted to twenty in his head. These men could have killed him and taken the money by now, but they hadn’t. That meant they were still going ahead with the swap. He would just have to endure their methodical caution until he got Dick back.

“It’s all there,” the other man said several minutes later, reappearing from the back of the car. “And the money bags are clean.”

Bruce could see a calculator and a small weighing scale in his hand: he had obviously counted the money bricks.

“Excellent. Put them in the van.”

While the other man complied, the second man – who seemed to be in charge – turned back to Bruce. “You and I are going to take a little trip in my car. My friend here will take yours. If there are any cops tracking you, it should be enough to throw them off track.” He gave Bruce a cold look. “And toss your cell phone.”

Bruce fished in his pocket and dropped the phone, hearing it crack as it hit the ground. He was counting to twenty over and over in his head now. Despite the people and situations he encountered as Batman, it had been a long time since he had been this close to losing it.

The man jerked his thumb at the van. “Move.”

The first man slammed the van doors shut as they approached. “You know what to do,” the second man told him and he nodded, walking away and climbing into Bruce’s car.

As he drove away, the masked man indicated that Bruce should get into the passenger seat of the van. He waited until the billionaire was seated before climbing into the driver’s seat. Reaching into the glove compartment, he pulled out a lump of dark material and handed it to Bruce. “Put that on,” he ordered. “Then keep your hands on your knees where I can see them.”

It was a black hood like the one they had used on Dick the night they kidnapped him. Bruce pulled it on, wondering if this was the same one. The thought made him feel slightly ill. Hearing the van start up, he put his hands on his knees. His every thought was of Dick as the vehicle pulled out.

oOo

Somewhere in the horrible weight pressing down on him, Dick could hear noise. The only thing he was aware of with any sort of clarity was that he hurt: pain was throbbing in the fingers of his left hand while agony seared through his upper leg. Sweat trickled down the side of his face.

The air smelled musty, almost choking him, and it was hot. Too hot. Dick swallowed. He was horribly thirsty. Feeling slightly sick, he tried to move and discovered that his hands were bound tightly in front of him. He could also feel something taped tightly across his mouth.

Suddenly, he felt himself bounce and heard the clatter of something metal near his head. Slowly he became aware of the hum of an engine.

 _I’m in the trunk of a car,_ he realized, cohesive thoughts starting to flit back to him. He tried to open his eyes but they didn’t seem to want to obey. Several images flashed through his mind but they were vague, unclear. Dick inhaled deeply, trying to clear his head but only thick, stale air seemed to flow through his nostrils. He tried again, but the muggy air in the trunk nearly suffocated him. His head started to pound and his heart was thumping hard against his chest.

Dick tried to swallow again, but his mouth was too parched. The feeling of nausea increased as he tried to make sense of the images in his head. His last clear memory was of his kidnappers forcing him to the floor after they broke his fingers, everything after that was a haze of voices, movement and sound. Somewhere amongst all of that was Bruce’s voice…Bruce’s voice and _pain_. 

His attention went to his left leg where pain radiated through his thigh in sharp, agonizing bursts. His jeans felt sticky and wet. A vague memory of something painful piercing his leg, then Bruce begging him to talk filtered through the disjointed images. Something had happened but Dick wasn’t sure what, he wasn’t sure of anything right now. He knew he’d been kidnapped and he vividly remembered the nightmarish ransom call that followed, but everything after that blurred into an intangible jumble of noise and confusion. 

A wave of nausea overtook him and the pain in his head increased. He wondered if this sick feeling was down to being trapped in the trunk or something else. The kidnappers had used drugs to subdue him after the ransom call, could this heavy, sick feeling be a side effect of that?

The car bounced again and Dick groaned as his throbbing head hit the floor of the trunk. He felt dangerously near to vomiting and suppressed it desperately, knowing that if he vomited while gagged he could choke to death. 

Trying not to think about his current predicament, the boy chose instead to focus on why he was in the trunk of a car. His kidnappers were obviously moving him, but why were they moving him? Dick knew that it was unusual for kidnappers to move their victims once they had reached a secure location. His thoughts went back to the horrible piercing sensation and Bruce’s voice. The kidnappers had already given his guardian one warning on the ransom call, why would they give another? Unless…

Dick’s eyes shot open behind the tape. Surely the forty-eight hours wasn’t up?! That much time couldn’t have passed…could it?

His heartbeat increased to an almost frantic rate and he could feel himself start to panic. The idea that there were forty-eight hours he couldn’t account for freaked him out. Had he been drugged the whole time? If so, had he been unconscious or had he slipped in and out? There were certain sounds, smells and images in his head that he couldn’t account for, things that whispered on the periphery of his memory, but that he couldn’t latch onto. 

_Oh, crap, I could have said anything!_

It felt like a jack hammer was battering a hole through his chest. What if he’d said something about Robin? About Batman? He could have given anything away and he wouldn’t know! 

His panic ratcheted several notches higher making his breathing more rapid and constricted. He tried to inhale but the tape across his mouth and the muggy air in the trunk gave him little in the way of relief – his nostrils flared as he struggled frantically to suck in air. His head pounded.

“Hey!” a loud voice yelled above him suddenly and two sets of rough hands seized him, pulling him out of the trunk. Dick had been so panicked that he hadn’t been registered the car stopping or the trunk opening.

“The kid’s freakin’ hyperventilating!” the same voice yelled and the tape was ripped away from his mouth.

Immediately he gulped in air, gasping as his chest heaved. His heart was still hammering wildly but at least he could breathe. Ignoring the men and the painful pounding in his chest, Dick sucked in blessed fresh air. Slowly his breathing returned to normal, but his heart rate hadn’t yet begun to slow when another wave of nausea hit him and he retched.

“Urgh!” a second voice yelled. 

His legs were dropped and his feet hit the ground while the hands gripping his upper arms twisted him forwards so that he was facing downwards as he heaved miserably. He was shaking when he finished.

“Can’t take your drugs, eh, kid?” sneered the first voice from behind him. Dick didn’t respond. He was sweating hard, yet his whole body felt cold. His limbs, particularly his hands, were limp and weak. His thirst was now unbearable and his throat felt like sandpaper.

 _What did they give me?_ he wondered, wishing his heart would stop pounding. It was both painful and uncomfortable.

He put his feet under him, intending to stand rather than hang like a ragdoll in the kidnapper’s grip, but cried out as his left leg buckled beneath him, pain jackknifing downwards. The hands gripping his upper arms tightened and Dick found himself being dragged backwards several feet before being dropped suddenly on the ground. Something wet seeped into his jeans and he detected the sensation of grass beneath him. Judging by the silence, he guessed they were in a field somewhere outside of Gotham. Assuming they hadn’t left Gotham completely, he really had no idea at this point.

Dick wondered what they were doing out here. The only possible explanation was that the forty-eight hours really was up and the ransom swap was about to take place. Freaked as he was about losing forty-eight hours while in the hands of his kidnappers, Dick couldn’t help but feel relief that this ordeal was almost over. 

A phone rang suddenly making him jump. His already frantic heartbeat increased its pace. So far his experience of phones with these men had involved nothing but pain.

“Showtime,” hissed a voice in his ear and a phone was shoved into his hand.

oOo

The van slowed to a halt and before Bruce could move, the hood was ripped off his head. He blinked several times in the watery sunlight, his eyes trying to adjust after the dark.

“Get out,” the man ordered.

Bruce complied, still blinking. He had been wearing that hood for at least thirty minutes by his estimation. As his vision adjusted, the first thing he saw was a black van. Two men wearing balaclavas stood in front of it. Quickly he moved towards them, not waiting for any more orders.

“Where’s Dick?” he demanded, reaching them. 

“Around,” said the tallest one evasively. He glanced at the man who had driven Bruce to this location. Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce saw the man nod. The tall man returned his attention to Bruce. “Well, well, I’m impressed, Wayne. It seems you can follow orders, I was beginning to doubt it.” Bruce recognized the harsh voice from the phone: the man who had conducted all the calls, the one who was clearly in charge.

“Where is he?” Bruce snarled.

“A few miles north-east of here. I will send you his GPS co-ordinates when we leave.” The man held out a small beeper in his hand.

“I don’t think so!” Bruce exploded, ignoring the proffered gadget. “I’ve had enough of you and your damn games! Where IS he?”

The man’s eyes were cold. “You forget that I’m the one calling the shots here.”

Bruce took a step towards him. “Listen to me you bastard–”

“No, Wayne, you listen!” the man interrupted. “Two of my men are with your son right now.” He withdrew a phone from his pocket. “At my order they can either kill him or stash him, it’s your decision.”

Bruce made a strangled sound – it felt like his anger might choke him. “How do I know he’s even alive?” A knife went through his heart as he asked the question.

The man responded by using the phone to call someone. “It’s me,” he said after a moment. “Put the kid on.”

He handed the phone to Bruce. “You get to keep this as a form of communication between you and the kid until we send the co-ordinates. But cross me and you’ll be using it to hear his last breaths.” 

Bruce grabbed the phone. “Dick?!”

“Bruce.”

He closed his eyes in relief. _Thank God._ “Hey, kiddo, how you doing?”

“Definitely not feeling the aster,” Dick said softly. He sounded lucid and his words were no longer slurred, but Bruce could hear the slight shake in his voice. Dick was scared.

“I’ll make it up to you when all this is over,” Bruce promised. “Not much longer okay, Dick? I’m just giving them the money now.”

“Then why are we talking on the phone? Shouldn’t you be here or me there?” 

“Let’s just say these men don’t play fair,” Bruce replied with a dark scowl at the man in front of him. “Can you give me a minute, Dick? We get to keep these phones until I get there.”

“Okay.”

With reluctance, Bruce lowered the phone. He fixed the leader with an angry look. “You have your money and you’ve ensured no police followed me – you’re obviously not going to kill me or you would have done so already. So just give me the damn co-ordinates!”

The man shook his head. “I don’t think so, Wayne. And in case you’re wondering, you have Jonah Harris to thank for this caution. I know he turned himself in yesterday, and that the Gotham City Batman had something to do with it. If that freak is involved then I would prefer that there were several miles between us before I tell you where to find your kid.”

Bruce clenched his fists, angry at himself for going to Jonah, for suggesting he turn himself in before the ransom drop happened. Clark had been right when he said he was too close to this. He hadn’t considered all the possibilities…or the consequences. All he had succeeded in doing was making things even more dangerous for Dick.

“Fine!” Bruce growled. “Give me the damn beeper and get the hell out of here!”

The man smirked, handing him the object. “I’ll even leave you one of the vans so you can ride to his rescue.” 

Bruce’s fingers twitched with the effort of restraining himself from delivering a hard punch at that smirk.

The three men walked over to the van Bruce had arrived in. The leader paused at the passenger door and fixed him with an evil smile. “Oh, and Wayne? I’d talk to your boy again. We set up a deterrent to anyone who might be clever enough to follow us here, but stupid enough to follow us further.” 

“What!” Cold fear washed over him and he lifted the phone to his ear. “Dick, are you still there?”

There was no reply. “Dick, come on, where are you?” he demanded urgently. Silence. “Goddammit! What did you do you bastards!” he yelled after the van that was now pulling out. He could feel himself start to shake. “Oh, God, please Dickie…” 

“Bruce,” a trembling whisper sounded on the other end.

oOo

Dick waited patiently for Bruce to come back on the phone. Because his hands were bound so tightly together, his broken fingers were pressed against his uninjured ones as his good hand held the cell phone close to his ear, causing him considerable pain. But there was no way he was letting go of the link to his guardian. Hearing Bruce’s voice had calmed his frantically pounding heart somewhat, although it still hammered painfully against his chest. He couldn’t understand why his heart-rate was so erratic.

He was concentrating so hard on the phone that he wasn’t prepared for the hand that snatched it from him, and even less prepared for being lifted off the ground.

“Hey!” he cried, kicking out and causing pain to flare through his injured leg. “What gives?”

“Insurance,” the man grunted at him as he was passed into another pair of waiting arms. No, not passed into…passed _down._

He kicked again, his foot connecting with something. There was a grunt of pain and someone shook him hard. “Watch it you little shit!” the man holding him snarled, the smell of stale tobacco on his breath wafting over Dick and stirring up the cold, sick feeling once more.

Alarm bells were blaring in his head. “What are you doing? Let go!” He struggled, trying to get the hands to release him.

A savage backhand was leveraged into his face and his head reeled from the force of the blow. Stunned, he felt himself being lowered onto something hard before the phone was shoved into his hands again.

“Don’t worry, kid, you can still talk to daddy,” a nasty voice sneered at him before something slammed overhead. He heard the sound of metal clinking and then nothing. 

He raised his hands and they came into contact with something hard. Fear growing, Dick touched the surface of what had been slammed over him. Wood. He swallowed, an uncomfortable motion in his parched mouth, and moved his shaking hands to right and then left. His hands met rough wood on both sides.

 _I’m in a box,_ he realized, the pounding of his heart increasing with that discovery. 

He was trying not to panic when he heard a tinny miniature of Bruce’s voice yelling. The phone! He’d almost forgotten about Bruce. Bringing the cell to his ear, he heard Bruce’s voice pleading. “Oh, God, please Dickie…”

“Bruce,” he whispered, his voice coming out shakier than he would have liked.

“Dick! Oh, thank God! For a minute there, I thought– what happened?”

“They’ve…they’ve locked me in a box,” Dick said uncertainly, hearing a soft thump above him.

“A box?” Bruce’s voice was sharp. “What kind of box?”

“I don’t know.” Two more soft thumps sounded overhead. “It feels like wood.”

“Feels like? Can’t you see it?”

Dick shook his head before he realized Bruce couldn’t see him “No. I can’t…I can’t see. They put tape over my eyes…all around my head…I can’t get it off…” he finished softly.

“I know, buddy,” Bruce’s tone was gentle. “I know what they did to your fingers.”

Soft thumps were still reverberating above him and Dick frowned. What was that noise? Something soft whispered down from the lid onto his face. He almost stopped breathing when he realized what it was. 

Earth.

“Oh, my God! Bruce, they’re burying me! This isn’t a box, it’s a coffin!” his voice rose several octaves in panic. “Bruce, they’re burying me alive!”


	8. Chapter 8

“Oh, my God! Bruce, they’re burying me! This isn’t a box, it’s a coffin! Bruce, they’re burying me alive!”

The terror in Dick’s voice tore at something deep inside of him and he had to fight to keep his own fear from overwhelming him. “Dick, its okay, just calm down–”

“ _Calm down?!_ Bruce, I’m being buried alive!” 

Hammering and banging echoed down the phone and Bruce realized that Dick was trying to break out of the box. “Dick! Stop it! Stop!”

“I can’t! I have to get out!” More banging sounded, followed by scratching and heavy panting. “Let me out!” he yelled, hammering at the box. “Bruce, I can’t get out! _I can’t get out!_ ” He was panicking, hyperventilating. 

It took everything Bruce had not to panic alongside Dick. He was listening to his son being buried alive and the terror in his voice was almost enough to send him over the edge. He forced himself to remain composed in order to calm Dick down before he used up his reserves of oxygen. “Dick, STOP! Listen to me, you have to calm down! I am going to get you out, you know I will, but you need to relax and preserve your air.”

“Bruce…I don’t…I don’t want to die down here,” Dick whispered. More scratching and banging ghosted down the line.

“You are NOT going to die!” Bruce swore vehemently. “I will get you out, I promise. Dick, listen to me, listen to my voice, when have I ever not come for you?”

“Never,” came the shaky response.

“Exactly. I will always come for you, always! Please, Dick, stop banging at the box.” Bruce was afraid that Dick would break the coffin and bring a mountain of earth in on top of him, suffocating him instantly. The banging and scratching stopped. “Good boy,” he said soothingly. “Now, take one or two deep breaths and relax your breathing. I know this is hard, Dick, but you need to relax.”

He winced as he listened to him inhale and exhale several times, using up his precious oxygen, but he didn’t dare remind him of that fact. Despite Dick’s training as Robin, he had never been trained for something like this. Moreover, he was still only thirteen; a thirteen-year-old who was hurt and scared. Bruce scowled. He knew the drugs pumping through his system and playing havoc with his emotions couldn’t be helping.

“Atta boy,” he said quietly as Dick’s breathing slowed. “I know you’re scared but it’s going to be okay, just relax.”

Superman landed beside him and Bruce shot him a desperate glance.

“How– how long do I have to– to stay here?” Dick asked in a trembling voice.

“Not long, buddy. The second they send me the co-ordinates, I’m there; Superman is here beside me.”

Dick gave a shaky laugh. “Quicker than any car.”

“Quicker than any car,” Bruce agreed. “Dick, try not to talk, you’ll only use up more air.”

“Will you keep talking?” Dick asked softly. “Please? Just so it’s– it’s not quiet?”

Bruce froze. He wasn’t a talker. Dick was the talker, the one who kept up hours of conversation even when Bruce responded with one word answers. But for Dick’s sake he would give it his best shot, regardless of how much of an idiot he sounded. “Of course. Just let me check something with Superman first, okay?”

“Okay.”

Bruce lowered the phone and looked at his friend. “Where are we?”

“About five miles outside Stamford.”

“Where are Flash and Wonder Woman?”

“Wonder Woman followed the guy who took your car; Flash is pursuing the three who left here. What’s going on with Dick?”

“They’ve buried him in a coffin somewhere. They’ll send me the co-ordinates to his location when they’re out of range.”

Superman’s eyes widened in horror as Bruce returned his attention to the phone. “I’m back, Dick.” He paused. What was he supposed to say to a boy lying in a coffin God-only-knows how many feet underground waiting to be rescued? “I’m not too good at one-sided conversations so don’t make too much fun of me for this, okay? So, ummm…at the last Wayne Enterprises board meeting–”

Dick’s laughter echoed in his ears. “Wayne Enterprises board meetings?! Come on, Bruce, even you can do better than that!”

Bruce couldn’t help but smile; Dick’s laughter was music to his soul. “Okay, smart guy, what should I talk about?”

“Tell me about your first night as Batman.”

Bruce’s smile widened. When Dick had first started out as Robin, he had been fascinated by Batman’s early adventures. Bruce suspected it was largely due to the fact that Batman had made a few rookie mistakes in the early days which Dick found hugely entertaining. Bruce had only told him the stories after Robin had made a few errors in judgment to show him that even Batman had made mistakes in the beginning, and how he had learned from them. However, not liking the reminder of those early mistakes, Bruce had only told the stories once, despite Dick’s pleas to hear them again. 

He gave a fond shake of his head. Trust Dick to request one now when he knew Bruce couldn’t say no. “Batman it is. But no more talking, okay?”

“’Kay.”

Bruce began the story of his first night out as Batman when, much to his chagrin, he had allowed Penguin to get the drop on him. He was aware of Superman listening with raised eyebrows and an amused smile. He had never heard this story before, only Dick and Alfred knew the stories of the early days, when Batman had actually made mistakes. But it didn’t bother Bruce that he was hearing it now – his only concern was keeping Dick calm.

Exactly fourteen minutes later, Bruce finished his tale and glanced at the beeper; still no sign of the co-ordinates. Not wanting to alert Dick to that fact, he immediately launched into another story. As he narrated, he tried to estimate how much air Dick had left. 

_Dick’s size and weight should give him one and a half, maybe two hours of oxygen. It’s been twenty-two minutes since he was trapped in the box, combined with the fact that he panicked..._

Bruce’s grip on the phone tightened as he realized that Dick had probably just over an hour of air left at most. He glanced at the beeper again, beginning to get agitated. Why were they taking so long? Surely they wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of setting up this elaborate ransom drop only to leave Dick to suffocate? His heart plunged at the horrific thought, but he was careful to keep his voice neutral as he continued to narrate tales of Batman’s early adventures.

Superman had started to pace beside him and Bruce could tell that the lack of contact from the kidnappers was unsettling him as well. He turned his back and tried to ignore the other man’s pacing because it was only making his own nerves worse. He needed to remain calm for Dick’s sake – if he panicked, Dick would panic.

But almost forty-two minutes later, as he came to the end of his tales about the early days of Batman’s career, his heart was beating that little bit faster while his eyes obsessively checked his watch and the frustratingly silent beeper. There was still no sign of the co-ordinates and Dick’s breathing had steadily become more laboured, indicating the oxygen levels in the box were dropping.

He stole another desperate glance at the beeper. _Come on, come on, where are those damn co-ordinates?_

“They haven’t…contacted you yet…have they?” Dick asked suddenly, gasps punctuating his words. Bruce knew it was a reaction to the elevated levels of carbon dioxide and his heart thudded even harder. 

“Not yet. Don’t worry, Dick; it shouldn’t be too much longer.” His tone was soothing, deliberately not conveying the worry he was feeling. _How much time has he left? Twenty minutes? Thirty?_

But he wasn’t fooling Dick. “You don’t think…they’ll contact…you, do you?”

Bruce swallowed. That was exactly what he was beginning to fear, but he couldn’t let Dick know that, the boy might panic again. “They’ll contact me. Dick, they set up a pretty elaborate ransom drop and they wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble if they didn’t intend for me to find you.”

There was silence for a moment, then. “Bruce…my head…hurts.”

Bruce’s heart sank. Already? They both knew what that meant, the carbon dioxide levels in the box were at a dangerous level. “Dick, I…” He stopped. For once in his life, Bruce didn’t know how to proceed.

“I’m going…to die down…here…aren’t I?” Dick’s voice was very quiet.

“NO! You are not going to die, Dick! These men have nothing to gain by killing you.”

“Bruce–”

“No!” his voice was fierce. “You are going to be fine, do you hear me? You are going to be just fine!”

Superman put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Bruce glanced at him and saw that his eyes were filled with worry and anger. “Should I contact Flash and get him to intercept the kidnappers?” he queried in a low voice.

“No!” Bruce’s tone was sharp. “Those men will never reveal where Dick is if they’re captured.”

He returned his attention to the phone and Dick’s slightly gasping breathing sent a cold shudder through him. They were running out of time. Bruce closed his eyes. He needed to tell Dick how important he was, how much he mattered to him. But to do so would be the same as admitting to Dick that he might not get there in time.

“Bruce…are you…still…there?” His voice was getting weaker, softer. He would lose consciousness soon.

Bruce opened his eyes. “I’m here, Dickie,” he answered softly. “I’m not going anywhere.” He listened to his son gasp for air and a knife pierced his soul. If this wasn’t a time to tell Dick how much he mattered then he didn’t know what was. “Dick, I have a confession to make, I did something very stupid the other day.”

“You…did? What?”

“I listened in on your counseling session with Black Canary.”

There was a stunted gasp. 

“I invaded your privacy and I’m sorry,” Bruce rushed on before Dick could speak. “I only did it because I was worried about you. I know that’s no excuse, but I didn’t know what else to do; you were so shut down after the training exercise and you wouldn’t talk to me…I just wanted to understand what was going on in your head so I could help you. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry.”

There was no response as Bruce continued. “And Dick, I want you to know that I never intended for Robin to become Batman: everything I’ve done has been to prevent you turning out like me. I want more for you than just being Batman.”

Dick still didn’t answer and Bruce wasn’t sure if it was because he was mad or shocked. He sighed. “I know I’m not very good at the parent thing or the emotional stuff, and that’s probably made you think that you’re only worth to me is as Robin but its not. And while I might sacrifice a lot for the mission, I would never sacrifice you. Do you understand?”

The only sound on the other end of the line was several choked breaths.

Bruce inhaled sharply. “Dick?” The boy didn’t respond and terror seized hold of him. If Dick had lost consciousness, then they were down to fifteen minutes at most before he would be beyond help. “Dick, talk to me, _please!_ ” 

There was still no answer. 

“Dickie, please,” Bruce whispered. It felt like his heart was literally breaking in two; he couldn’t lose his son, not like this. “I can’t lose you, son, you mean too much to me…Dickie, please, say something…”

Silence. Bruce gave a small cry of anguish and let the phone fall to his side. His hands were trembling and he could feel Superman’s hand tight upon his shoulder. How could this be happening? He was Batman for Christ’s sake! He should be able to save his own son instead of standing here listening to him slowly suffocate.

Suddenly, the shrill sound of a beeper shattered the air. Both Bruce and Superman jumped.

_The co-ordinates!_ Bruce immediately activated the small holographic computer in his watch to pinpoint a location. Entering the co-ordinates, his heart stopped beating and he groaned in despair. “Clark, he’s ten miles west of Clinton!” 

Superman immediately raised his hand to the comm. link in his ear. “Flash, where are you? Respond at once, this is urgent!” 

Bruce could hear the slightly tinny voice of Flash through the receiver, although he couldn’t hear his reply. He watched anxiously as Superman frowned. “We just received them, but Dick is more than sixty miles away. They buried him alive and even at my top speed I won’t get there in time! Can you–” His eyes widened. “What! How– never mind, I’ll contact them at once! Superman out.”

“The team should be in that area,” he told Bruce. “Don’t ask, I have no idea,” he added at Bruce’s surprised expression. He returned his attention to the comm. link. “Superman to team, come in, team.”

oOo

Dick listened to Bruce’s words and a single tear rolled down his cheek. He tried to respond but all that came out were several gasped breaths; he couldn’t get enough air to speak. The pressure on his chest was horrendous yet he struggled, wanting desperately to answer his guardian.

Bruce had never called him son before – if he was doing so now, did that mean he was saying goodbye? 

_I really am going to die in here._ Another tear rolled down his cheek. _I don’t want to die!_ A broken sob escaped him. He was going to die in here, alone and hurting, and he couldn’t even talk to Bruce! 

His breathing hitched painfully in his chest. Suffocating hurt a lot more than Dick thought it would: his pulse thumped violently at his temples and his injured leg throbbed horribly. His heart hammered against his chest, exacerbating the crushing sensation in his lungs and he longed to take a deep breath. He was glad his broken fingers had stopped feeling anything other than deep cold because he could only imagine how excruciating it would be if he could feel his pulse pounding through them. 

For several minutes, Dick remained listening to the phone, hoping to hear his guardian’s voice again. But the only sounds were his own strained breathing and a strange ringing in his ears. He hadn’t responded to Bruce’s frantic pleas and guessed his guardian believed him to be unconscious. He wouldn’t speak to Dick again.

Heartsick, Dick let the phone slip from his fingers. He was completely alone now. 

He lay in darkness, listening to the blood rushing in his head and his laboured breathing. The ringing in his ears got steadily louder. He wondered how much longer it would take for him to die. Would he feel it? A stifled sob escaped his parched lips and another tear ran down his cheek. He wanted to be angry at himself for being such a baby but he was too scared. Despite everything he had faced as Robin, he had never been more frightened then he was at that moment: he was facing a slow death by suffocation and there was nothing he could do about it.

Dick gave a choked gulp which caught painfully in his dry throat, before scrunching his eyes tight against the tears that were threatening to fall. He really didn’t want to die, not like this.

_Don’t think about it,_ he told himself. _Try to remember the good times._

Lip quivering and chest heaving, Dick tried to focus on his happiest memories: the first time he had performed as a Flying Grayson and his parents’ proud smiles, the Christmas Jack Haley had given him a tiger cub as a present nearly causing his mother to have a heart attack, the weekend he and Bruce had spend camping in Colorado not long after he became Robin, the first night he met Superman, his second Christmas at Wayne Manor when he and Bruce had spent the afternoon engaging in a massive snowball fight followed by hot chocolate in front of the TV, the day he realized what an awesome best friend he had and revealed his identity to Wally, the first time Robin had kicked butt without Batman’s help…

Dick allowed the memories to surround him, trying to make this moment less frightening and less painful.

Slowly, his mind dulled to a sluggish void and his eyes began to get heavy. His chest pitched and heaved as he struggled to breathe while the hard thump of his heart became less. And he was becoming so very tired. The cold silence in the box wrapped itself around him and Dick allowed himself to be pulled into its nothingness.

oOo

“Superman to team, come in, team.”

Everyone on the bio-ship froze as Superman’s voice sounded over the communicator. They looked at one another. No one answered.

There was an edge to his voice when he spoke again. “Team, this is urgent! Respond at once and advise of your position! I repeat; this is urgent!”

It was Kaldur who leaned over and hit the response button. “Aqualad reporting. We are three miles north of Old Saybrook.”

Superman exhaled sharply. “Listen to me very carefully. Batman is sending you co-ordinates to a location outside Clinton right now. Get there as quickly as you can. The ransom for that boy from Gotham was paid this morning but the kidnappers turned the tables – they buried him alive and you’re the only ones close enough to get there on time.”

Wally’s stomach felt like it had been flipped inside out and his mouth moved soundlessly in a silent cry of horror. 

“Co-ordinates received, Superman,” Kaldur spoke into the communicator. “We can be there in four minutes.”

“I will meet you there as quickly as I can,” Superman told them before disconnecting the link.

Wally wasn’t able to move as the bio-ship increased its speed. His heart was beating frantically and he stared, unseeing, ahead of him.

Dick had been buried alive. He was lying in a grave somewhere, slowly suffocating. _Oh God, is he conscious? Does he know what’s happening?_ Wally wondered in petrified horror.

It was one of the most nightmarish scenarios he could imagine. He didn’t even want to think about how his best friend must be feeling – Dick hated being confined. He was a bird; he belonged in the air not the ground.

Wally griped his seat tightly. _Don’t panic, don’t flip out!_

His rash, impulsive nature was demanding he give voice to the fear he was feeling and he did his best to swallow it. Now was not the time for a Wally melt-down, it was time for Kid Flash heroics. He tried to ignore that fact that his head was reeling and he felt very unsteady, like he was perched on the edge of a precipice ready to tip right over at the slightest nudge.

It registered somewhere in his consciousness that the bio-ship had become strangely silent since Superman’s report, but his panicked brain was beyond pondering the reasons for the sudden silence. Wally had just one thought now; rescue his best friend.

The four minutes it took to reach the location for Batman’s co-ordinates felt like an age. Wally didn’t understand how a minute could be so long…weren’t they all supposed to be sixty seconds?

He was vibrating with nerves as the bio-ship finally descended and slowed to a halt, then zoomed through the hatch before it was even fully open. He landed with a soft whump on wet grass in the middle of an open field. 

Casting his gaze around, his eyes fell on a mound of earth; a shovel stuck deep in the middle of it.

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod!” he babbled, racing over and seizing the shovel. Completely forgetting about his team mates, Wally started to dig frantically, throwing earth in every direction. He was so focused on his task that he almost had a heart attack when he found himself being lifted into the air by an invisible force.

He gave a strangled yell and turned. Miss Martian had one hand raised, obviously using her telekinesis to suspend him in mid air.

“What the hell?!” he yelled, swinging the shovel. “Are you crazy?! Put me down!”

Miss Martian gave him a disbelieving look before waving her other hand and levitating the loose earth out of the grave.

“Ohhhhh,” he said, understanding now.

Dropping the mountain of earth, Miss Martian slowly lowered Wally to the ground. He dropped the shovel and sprinted back to the edge of the grave just as Superboy jumped down into it.

He watched with a frantically beating heart as the older teenager lifted the lid of the coffin clean off and tossed it out of the grave. 

And there he was, his best friend. Wally couldn’t tell if he was conscious because there was tape all around his eyes, but he clearly wasn’t moving. He swallowed as Superboy leaned in and lifted Dick out of the coffin then jumped back out of the grave.

Carefully, he lowered the boy to the ground. “I don’t hear a heartbeat,” he said quietly.

Wally gave an anguished moan as Artemis and Kaldur knelt beside Dick and began CPR; Artemis delivered mouth to mouth while Kaldur performed chest compressions. His heart was in his mouth as he watched them try to save Dick’s life.

“One…Two…Three…Four…Five…” Kaldur counted, keeping a steady rhythm. In between compressions, Artemis blew air down Dick’s throat.

_Come on, dude, breathe! Please!_ Wally begged silently. The minutes were ticking past and Dick was not responding. _If you don’t wake up, I swear I will kick your ass in the afterlife!_

Wally was on the verge of yelling at him when finally he heard it; a feeble gasp. He dropped to his knees beside Dick just as the younger boy started to wheeze and choke, gulping in oxygen to his starved lungs. The first few rattled gasps as he sucked in air made Wally wince, but slowly his breathing became more normal. He still didn’t regain consciousness though, much to Wally’s distress. “Dude, come on, wake up!” he said urgently, resisting the urge to shake him.

Across from him, Kaldur had gotten to his feet but Artemis remained on her knees, staring down at Dick. Wally barely noticed her intense gaze, he had bigger concerns. “Why isn’t he waking up?” he demanded, looking at Artemis and the others. “Shouldn’t he be waking up?”

They stared back at him, saying nothing. “What?” he snapped irritably. 

“Is that what this has been all about?” Kaldur asked quietly.

“Is what all about? What are you talking about?” Wally demanded. They were all watching him intently.

“Wally, look at him,” said Artemis gently.

Confused, Wally looked back at Dick. He winced as he took in the blood on his jeans and the horribly broken fingers. The tips of his fingers, even the broken ones, were slightly bloody and Wally’s heart plummeted as he realized why: Dick had clawed at the coffin. He had been conscious when they put him in there.  
But he still couldn’t see what his team saw until he looked at Dick’s face. That’s when he saw it. 

Dick’s hair was disheveled, falling over his forehead in a manner similar to how he wore it when in costume. The tape wound tightly around his eyes served as a substitute mask – they weren’t looking at Dick Grayson, they were looking at Robin. 

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” said Artemis quietly. 

Wally didn’t answer. He couldn’t look at any of them. His eyes fell instead on Dick’s hands. He swallowed. They were snow white from being bound so tightly. He reached over and fumbled with the zip-ties, cringing when he saw how deeply they cut into his wrists. They were zippered too tight to open. “Can– can someone get these off him?” Wally mumbled, still not looking at any of them.

Without speaking, Artemis removed an arrow from her quiver and used it to fray the plastic of the zip-cuffs. Within a few minutes, Dick’s hands were free. She gently placed his left hand on the ground before carefully massaging the right one. “To help his circulation,” she explained when Wally looked at her. 

He nodded, glancing back at Dick’s left hand; the shattered fingers prevented her from doing the same with that one.

While Artemis coaxed the blood back into Dick’s frozen fingers, Wally reached up and began unraveling the tape around his eyes. A dart of hatred hit him when he caught sight of a dark bruise on his friend’s cheek, they’d hit him as well. 

Wally wasn’t prone to feelings of either violence or hatred; it just wasn’t in his nature. But right now, faced with the evidence of what these men had done to his best friend, he was experiencing some pretty powerful instances of both. Dick might have been Robin, and was more accustomed to danger than most thirteen-year-olds, but his kidnappers didn’t know that. As far as they were concerned, he was just a regular kid, but that still hadn’t stopped them from hurting or terrorizing him…and almost killing him.

Wally gritted his teeth as he unwound the last of the tape from around Dick’s eyes. Sometimes he really wondered about the evil that men could do. He sat back on his heels and studied Dick’s dirt-smeared face. There were suspicious streaks on both his cheeks. Wally’s heart hurt when he realized just how scared his friend must have been and he placed a reassuring hand on Dick’s arm. He glanced back at Artemis who was now examining the wound on his leg. 

“Knife wound,” she hissed. “It’s still bleeding. M’gann, can you get the first aid box from the ship?”

But the Martian was already using her telekinesis to transport the box out of the ship. Wally watched as it floated through the air and landed beside Artemis. The archer immediately opened it and removed a roll of bandages, then began to bind it tightly around Dick’s leg.

Wally could see red seep through the bandages as she worked and tightened his grip on Dick’s arm. Hot anger coursed through him. _They got their stupid money - why did they have to do all this?_

Artemis finished binding Dick’s leg. She looked at Dick, then Wally, and finally Kaldur. “What do we do now? Wait for Superman?”

“He did say he would meet us here,” Kaldur replied.

“Yeah, but how long will that take?” Artemis demanded, getting to her feet.

Kaldur frowned. “I am not sure. Superman did not say where he was when he contacted us.”

“Maybe we should wait?” M’gann suggested. “Rob– uh…” she hesitated for a second, “Dick…doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger.” 

“Actually, his heart is racing pretty fast,” Superboy interjected.

“What!” Wally snapped, fumbling for a pulse. “And you’re only saying that now?!” His fear grew as he realized that Superboy was right: Dick’s heart was racing.

“It was fine after he started breathing,” Superboy retorted. “It’s just been getting faster since.”

“Then we should get him to a hospital,” said Kaldur decisively. “We can contact Superman and let him know where we are going.”

“DICK!”

The loud yell startled them and they turned, just in time to see Superman land…Superman and Bruce Wayne.

Wally gawped. He had _not_ been expecting that! Had Bruce ever even flown with Superman before?

The billionaire dashed over as Superman released him, throwing a cell phone to the ground. Collapsing to his knees beside Dick, he quickly gathered the unconscious boy in his arms and held him tightly against his chest.

The team backed away with wide eyes. Wally could see them all putting two and two together, then look at one another with stunned expressions. Seeing Robin vulnerable was one thing, but Batman? That was something else entirely.

Wally had to admit, watching a frantic Bruce Wayne cling to Dick was freaking him out too. This was just not what the man did! Uncomfortable, he looked away and his gaze fell on the cell phone that Bruce had tossed. Wally frowned. Why had he been clinging to a stupid cell anyway? A grim suspicion crossed his mind and Wally leaned over and looked back into the grave. A cell phone was lying in the coffin. His heart lurched. 

“Oh, God, could you hear everything?!” he asked Bruce, horrified.

The look in the man’s eyes was answer enough for Wally. _Now_ he understood the frantic reaction, the emotion that Bruce never normally showed.  
Superman was beside them now, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “He needs the hospital,” he reminded them gently. “Should I–?”

“No,” said Bruce, his grip tightening. “We can take him in the bio-ship.”

The speedster sighed. _Ah crud! He knows they know. He’s probably going to kill me now._ Wally braced himself when Bruce looked back at him.

“Thank you,” said the man quietly, shocking him. He looked at the rest of the team. “Thank you all.”

Wally blinked. He was pretty sure that somewhere, pigs were flying.


	9. Chapter 9

It was a very silent bio-ship that arrived in Gotham City. The silence was mostly due to Dick’s continuing unconsciousness – he remained horribly white-faced and still in Bruce’s arms – but Wally had a feeling that it was also due in part to the team struggling to come to terms with the discovery that Bruce Wayne was Batman. It wasn’t helping that Bruce was showing an uncharacteristically human side as he cradled Dick tightly to him. 

Wally was still trying to get his own head around that. He kept sneaking glances back at where Bruce was sitting, not speaking to anyone while his arms kept a tight hold on Dick and one cheek rested gently against Dick’s dark hair. Wally frowned at that. Human Bruce Wayne was freaking him out! He felt like the man had been body-snatched or something. He would admit the silence was pretty characteristic though.

Still in camouflage mode, the bio-ship descended slowly and hovered near the entrance to Gotham General’s A & E. It wasn’t yet eleven thirty and the entrance area was quiet.

“Miss Martian, use your telekinesis to lower us to the ground,” Bruce commanded, getting to his feet with Dick still in his arms. “Then return to Mount Justice – Flash and Superman will meet you there shortly.” 

After the team and Bruce had boarded the bio-ship, Superman had flown off to join Flash in apprehending the kidnappers. Wally guessed they were meeting the team to give them the ‘talk’ about why it was so important to keep Batman and Robin’s identities secret. But Wally had already had that talk, not to mention that he had already proven he could keep that secret. He had no intention of returning to Mount Justice.

He got to his feet as well just as Bruce fixed him with a look. “That includes you, Kid Flash,” he ordered in a tone that brokered no argument.

“What! Why?!” 

“You’re still in uniform. Too many questions would be asked.”

“You just arrived here in the bio-ship!” Wally argued furiously. “How is that any different?!”

“The bio-ship is in camouflage mode and I don’t plan on anyone seeing us exiting.”

“Then how are you going to explain getting here?”

The team exchanged glances and Wally knew they were shocked that he was actually arguing with Bruce – the man was Batman for crying out loud! Truthfully, even Wally was a little surprised at himself, a voice in his head demanding to know if he had some sort of death wish.

Bruce frowned. “Superman is going to bring the van that the kidnappers left behind. That is what I will tell the authorities I used. This is not up for negotiation and I do not appreciate being questioned.”

There it was; Batman voice. But instead of forcing Wally to cower, it only made him angrier. “And I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark! He’s my best friend and I had to find out about his kidnapping on the freaking _news!_ Not to mention that I’ve been keeping this in all weekend after you sent us to Gotham! It’s not fair and I am not going back to Mount Justice to be kept out of the loop again!”

Wally glared at Bruce, his anger making him less scared of the man than he usually was.

“You’re right.”

A collective gasp went around the ship and Wally’s mouth opened slightly. Did Bruce Wayne just tell him he was right?

“I should have thought to inform you,” Bruce admitted. “That was an oversight on my part and I’m sorry. But in my defence, I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.”

Wally was pretty sure the world was ending. Bruce Wayne – freaking _Batman_ – had just apologised to him and admitted weakness. The stunned faces of his team mates told him they were thinking the same thing.

“I know this weekend has been hard for you, Wally,” Bruce continued, “and I know you’re worried about Dick, but right now, he needs medical help and standing here arguing is not helping. If you won’t listen to me then will you please do this for him?”

Wally scowled and silently flopped back into his chair with his arms crossed. He considered it a low blow that Bruce was using Dick to make him stay.

“I will contact you all later with an update. Miss Martian, if you would.”

Wally didn’t look as the Martian used her powers to gently lower them both to the ground. This wasn’t fair! After all the horrible fear and worry and waiting of the last few days, he was now being forced to do it again. He knew it was irrational, but right now Wally really hated Bruce Wayne.

He could feel the bio-ship slowly move off but didn’t look up. There was a long silence before anyone spoke. When someone did, Wally wasn’t surprised that it was Artemis.

“Soooo, Bruce Wayne is Batman. Anybody see that coming, ’cause I sure didn’t!”

“I didn’t know who he was before this weekend,” Miss Martian admitted.

“Seriously?!” Artemis’ eyes bugged. “He’s like, one of the richest men in the world!”

Superboy snorted. “What’s that got to do with anything?” 

Wally guessed the clone hadn’t known all that much about him either – which made sense once you remembered that he’d been living in a test tube up until a couple of months ago.

“I dunno,” Artemis replied. “Geez, isn’t anybody else weirded out about this? Aqualad?”

“Not really,” he responded. “It makes sense when you think about it. Bruce Wayne is wealthy enough to afford all the equipment that Batman has.”

Wally’s head snapped around to look at him. Kaldur had processed that awfully fast.

“Yeah, but…Bruce Wayne?” Artemis was shaking her head. “He’s Gotham’s biggest playboy!”

“Not anymore,” Wally interjected absently. “Not since Dick came on the scene.”

That much was true. Once Bruce had taken Dick in, the number of society ladies in his life had dropped dramatically. Dick had told Wally that Bruce had deliberately cultivated the playboy image so that no one would connect him to Batman, but after he became Dick’s guardian, he had an excuse for not being so active on the dating scene.

Wally scowled. “Stupid Bruce,” he muttered, still mad that he hadn’t been allowed to go with Dick.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. “Wally, you do know he was right when he refused to let you go with them?” 

“How was he right?!” he demanded furiously.

For once, she didn’t just snap back at him. “Wally, questions would be asked if Kid Flash was hovering around Gotham General wanting to know how Dick Grayson is. It wouldn’t take a genius to make the connection that he’s Robin. And if this is what happens to him when people _don’t_ know he’s Robin, then I’d hate to think what would happen if it got out that he is.”

Wally stared at her. Less than an hour after finding out Robin’s real identity, Artemis had already pieced together why secrecy was particularly important for Batman and Robin…something he’d never once considered over the course of two years. His arms tightened across his chest and he sulked. That Artemis had beat him to the punch on that score didn’t make him feel any better.

“Wally, at least you can talk to us now,” Miss Martian offered tentatively. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.” 

He gave a weak smile in response; scowling at Miss Martian was a no-no in his book.

“How long have you known Robin’s real identity?” Artemis wanted to know. She looked curious.

Wally felt his ears burn. “About two years.”

“That long?” Kaldur put in.

Wally glanced at him, suddenly feeling awkward. Robin had known him almost as long as Wally and he had never revealed his real name to him. “Uh…yeah…it’s…um…it’s a long story.”

“Do not worry my friend. I have suspected for quite some time that you knew Robin’s real name.”

“You don’t mind?” Wally was surprised.

Kaldur shook his head. “I have always known that you and Robin share a particularly close bond.”

“Uh, right.” Studying Kaldur’s expression, something occurred to Wally. “Exactly whose idea was it to get involved today?”

Kaldur’s lips curved in a small smile. “Mine.”

Wally sighed. _So that’s why he’s being so chilled about all of this._ “You knew Dick was Robin, didn’t you?”

“I began to suspect there may be a connection after you disobeyed me in Gotham on Saturday. But it was when you would not join us for pizza on Saturday night that I started to wonder if maybe Dick _was_ Robin.”

Wally groaned. He really had been so obvious. “Did I tip the rest of you off too?”

Superboy shrugged. “Didn’t really think about it; you always act weird.”

“Gee, thanks,” said Wally sarcastically before looking at Miss Martian. “What about you, babe?”

“I knew you were distressed about his kidnapping but I didn’t know why.”

They all turned to Artemis.

“I didn’t think he was Robin,” she admitted. “I thought maybe he was a friend of Robin’s and that was how you knew him.”

Wally raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you think he was Robin?”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “A skinny little mathlete?! Come on. Not exactly the first thing that springs to mind when you think of the Boy Wonder.”

“Wait!” Wally narrowed his eyes at her. “How do you know he’s a mathlete? That’s the second time you’ve done that! You knew he went to Gotham Academy _and_ that he’s a freshman!”

Her eyes widened before she scowled and crossed her arms. “It was on the news, genius. No big mystery there.”

Wally frowned, not exactly believing her, but not caring enough to quiz her either. He was getting tired of this conversation. What he really wanted was to go back to Gotham and see Dick. Talking about his friend wasn’t the same as seeing him.

oOo

Bruce was seated in a hospital waiting room with his head in his hands; it had been almost two hours since he had pushed through the ER doors and he still had no word on Dick’s condition. Nor had he seen Dick since he was taken to x-ray over an hour ago, and despite his incessant hovering and badgering the nurses, no one would give him any answers.

It was making him frantic. Aside from the nerve wracking worry, Bruce wasn’t used to people telling him to wait. But if someone didn’t tell him something soon then he was going to start yelling at people, appearances be dammed.

“Bruce?”

He looked up to see Leslie Thompkins standing there. “Leslie, what are you doing here? I thought you only worked Wednesday and Thursday in the hospital?”

“I’m covering for another doctor. I heard about Dick–”

Bruce sprang to his feet. “Do you know how he is? Can you find out? No one will tell me anything!”

She held up a hand. “The nurses couldn’t tell you what they didn’t know. We had to wait until Dick’s blood work came back before we knew what was going on.”

“You were treating him?”

“Yes. One of the attendings knew I was on and she knows I’m Dick’s physician so she had me paged. And I deliberately kept you out of the examination room because I knew you’d only get in the way,” she added as he opened his mouth in outrage.

“How is he? Is he awake? Can I see him?”

“Soon.” Her face was serious. “We need to discuss a few things first.”

His heart plummeted. “Oh, God, is something wrong?”

“Bruce, I will explain everything if you stop asking questions and just _listen_.”

He shut up at once.

She pushed her glasses up her nose. “After you told the attending ER that you believed Dick had been drugged, I put a rush on his blood work. You were right, he was. They gave him several extremely heavy doses of two powerful sedatives: temazepam and flunitrazepam. He was also given a massive dose of methamphetamines just a short while ago.” 

“Methamphetamines! Why the hell would they give him those?!”

“I’m guessing to try and counter the effects of the sedatives; the last dose wasn’t long before. Did they need him conscious for the ransom swap?”

He clenched a fist and gave a curt nod.

“That explains it then.” She shook her head angrily. “He’s lucky they didn’t kill him. Mixing stimulants and depressants in high doses has the potential to cause acute heart failure because both drugs send different messages to the cardiovascular system. In Dick’s case, it caused a dangerous arrhythmia that led to a minor myocardial infarction–”

“ _A heart attack?!_ Jesus, Leslie!” Bruce thought he might have one too at this information.

“Minor,” she reminded him gently. “He’s going to be okay. He’s currently on oxygen and we’ve given him nitro-glycerine. Dick’s young and very physically fit with a strong heart – it’s probably what saved him.” She leaned over and grasped his hand. “Bruce, because of it, we’re going to have to wait before performing surgery on his fingers and leg.”

“What does his heart have to do with that?” Bruce asked, his own heart racing frantically.

“Dick almost OD’ed,” she explained, “and I would rather most of the drugs were out of his system before we sedate him again. Besides, between the blood loss and the drugs, he’s extremely dehydrated which would make any surgery risky.”

“How long before you can perform surgery?”

“Tomorrow, if he responds well to treatment.”

“Is it safe to wait?” Bruce swallowed. “They broke his fingers Saturday morning – it’s been more than forty-eight hours…”

She squeezed his hand gently. “We’re going to have to rebreak the fingers anyway to set them correctly. Three of them were almost completely shattered and the healing will be slow and possibly difficult. He’s going to have to come in for x-rays every week to make sure the bones are still straight and aligned, and it’s very likely that he’ll need several re-settings over the next few weeks.”

“Is there any danger of the fingers not healing correctly?”

“Some, but it’s minimal. Best case scenario, the fingers would be crooked but still functional. Worst case would be a complete loss of use. But I don’t see either being an option if he follows our instructions – which I have no doubt you and Alfred will make him do.”

Bruce nodded. “What about his leg?”

“The leg looks a lot worse than it actually is. The wound is deep but there was relatively little tissue damage. Once we’ve cleaned it out and repaired any damage, it should heal fine. Dick will just need to keep his weight off it for a week or two.”

Bruce put a hand to his head. All of this was done to his son for money. It made him sick. “Can I see him?” 

“I’ll take you to him,” she said, crooking a finger for Bruce to follow her. He quickly complied. 

“I had him moved to a quiet room on one of the upper floors after his x-rays,” she explained as they walked.

“Already?” Bruce was surprised.

She grimaced. “It would appear that someone in the ER notified the media of your arrival. The vultures started arriving an hour ago.”

Bruce curled a lip in distaste. The media attention was one element of being Bruce Wayne that he hated with every fiber of his being.

“Don’t worry,” she said, stopping at the elevator and hitting a button. “I had hospital security station someone outside his room.”

“Thank you, Leslie.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” she replied, hitting nine just as the doors slid closed. “I can only imagine the ordeal he’s been through.”

Bruce gritted his teeth and gave a curt nod. He didn’t have to imagine it; he had heard the worst in agonizing live-action. The elevator shuddered and started to move. “Has he woken up yet?” Bruce asked anxiously. Dick’s continued unconsciousness after being pulled from the grave had un-nerved him.

She nodded. “He woke up shortly after his x-rays. Bruce, you should know that he’s a little…emotional. It’s a side effect of the drugs, and I’m guessing being buried alive didn’t help, and for now it’s very important that he stays calm. His heart is still racing from the methamphetamines and it would be better if he doesn’t get upset until we can flush the drugs from his system, so you need to be very calm and very gentle when you enter that room, do you understand?”

“Leslie, I just got him _back!_ I’m hardly going to start _yelling_ at him!” 

“I know that,” she said patiently. “But I also know you, Bruce. Dick will only have to mention what they did to him and you’ll exhibit that cold anger you do so well and start contemplating ways to hurt them without breaking the law. But that isn’t what Dick needs right now: he needs a father, not Batman.”

He swallowed, nodding as the doors opened. Stepping out, they walked briskly down the corridor to where Bruce could see a security guard standing outside a room. Unconsciously, he increased his pace. He was longing to see Dick.

“Henry, this is Mr. Wayne,” said Dr. Thompkins, reaching the man. “He’s Dick’s father.”

The security guard nodded at Bruce but the billionaire barely noticed as he pushed open the door and entered the room. His eyes went immediately to the bed where Dick was sitting propped against several pillows, an oxygen mask on his face. Bruce hardly saw the nurse talking to him in soothing tones; he had eyes only for his son.

Dick’s eyes were huge when he turned towards him. “Bruce!” 

“Dick,” he managed in a choked whisper, crossing the room in a few steps and pulling him into a tight hug.

_Oh, thank god! Thank you, thank you, thank you!_ he prayed fervently, holding on for dear life to the boy, lips ghosting the top of his head. Even though he had held a breathing Dick in his arms for the entire journey into Gotham, the still, unconscious figure had scared him. Bruce had been terrified that the lack of oxygen had done permanent damage and that his vibrant, alive son would become nothing more than a shell. It was only now, seeing Dick conscious, sitting up, _speaking_ , could Bruce reassure himself that the boy would be alright.

He could feel Dick shaking in his arms and tightened his grip. “It’s alright, Dickie,” he said softly. “Its okay, you’re safe now.” He ran his fingers soothingly through the dark hair, a strange mixture of sorrow and relief coursing through him. Sorrow for Dick’s fear and pain, and relief as the sobs reminded him of just how alive his son really was.

The nurse whose presence he had barely registered was gone, leaving them alone. Bruce was glad; he wanted to talk to Dick without anyone listening.

“Sorry,” said Dick in a shaking voice, pulling away and rubbing at his eyes with the back of his right hand. “I– I don’t know why I did that.” There was frustration and embarrassment in his voice. He gave a weak laugh. “Stupid, huh?”

He was playing the tough guy, trying to be what he thought Bruce wanted him to be. The billionaire swallowed. Dick had to be the only thirteen-year-old on the planet who would apologize for allowing the trauma of being buried alive to show, and it was Bruce’s fault that he felt he had to. Bruce rarely showed emotion or weakness, while Batman _never_ did. Now was the time to correct the mistaken assumptions that Dick had about Bruce’s feelings and expectations.

“It’s not stupid,” Bruce told him, sitting on the bed beside him and putting one arm around his shoulders to draw him closer. There was a chair beside the bed that he could have sat on, but having come so close to losing him, he wasn’t ready to let go of his son just yet. “Dick, you’ve just been through a terrible ordeal, not to mention the mountain of drugs pumping through your system… Frankly, I’m surprised you’re not more upset.”

“You’re just saying that,” Dick mumbled, tugging at the oxygen mask.

“Stop that,” said Bruce gently, guiding his hand away again. “And I’m not just saying it. Most men I know would be reduced to gibbering wrecks by what you’ve just been through, not to talk of a thirteen year-old-boy. So despite what you might think, it’s normal to be frightened by something like this… I know I was.”

Dick stared at him. “ _You_ were scared?”

“Probably more than I’ve ever been,” he admitted quietly. “Losing you is the most terrifying thing I can imagine and I came too close this weekend, because for all my toys and connections, I was helpless to do anything about it. Dick, I would have given up everything in a heartbeat to have you home safe.”

Dick frowned at him. “Was the world invaded by aliens this weekend? Have you been body-snatched or something?”

Bruce chuckled. “No aliens, buddy, just me. Sometimes it takes almost losing something before you realize just how precious it really is. And I am not going to forget that lesson again.” He looked down at the boy leaning against him. “You mean everything to me, Dick, you’re my son and things are going to be very different from now on. You and I are going to make time for regular father son stuff, not just…extracurricular activities.”

“Really?” Dick looked both stunned and hopeful.

“I promise, Dickie.” He leaned down and kissed the top of Dick’s head. Such a small gesture, but something he had never done until today. Bruce shuddered when he thought of how little he had hugged Dick in the past, relying instead on warm smiles and gentle pats on the shoulder to convey his affection. His arm tightened around his son. He would never hesitate to show Dick how much he mattered in the future.

Dick grimaced. “Bruce, I am too old for ‘Dickie’ now.”

Bruce smiled fondly. “You’ll never be too old for ‘Dickie’ in my eyes.”

“Just so long as you don’t use it in front of my friends,” Dick grumbled, blushing slightly.

Bruce just smiled.

oOo

Wally arrived on the ninth floor of the hospital, wondering how long it would be before hospital security realized that there was a teenager wandering about the hospital and peering into rooms while he searched for his best friend.

The lady on the front desk had been absolutely no help when Wally had asked what room Dick was in. In a snooty voice, she had informed him that that information was ‘confidential’ and that ‘Mr. Grayson’ would not be having any visitors, before asking him to leave. Wally had been sorely tempted to give her a not-so-nice gesture with his finger (even if she was kind of hot), but had restrained himself and walked away. He suspected that the mass of reporters and news cameras outside the hospital had something to do with her caution, but really – Wally glanced down at his jeans, sneakers and shirt – did he _look_ like a news reporter?!

Instead, he had left and re-entered through one of the other doors before starting to search all the private rooms – because there was no way in hell Bruce would leave Dick in a public ward – from the ground floor up. But he was getting a little frustrated now because he wasn’t able to use his speed and he’d been searching for over an hour with no sign of Dick. Plus he was almost certain that he’d passed some of those doctors by the nurses’ station on another floor. Wally shoved his hands in his pockets as he passed and tried to look like he knew where he was going. 

It was then he spotted a hospital security guard at the other end of the corridor. For a second, he panicked and almost ran, thinking he’d been caught. But then he realized the man wasn’t even looking at him, he was just standing outside a room idly watching people walk past. 

Wally frowned. What would a hospital security guard be doing just _standing_ outside a room? Heart beating a little faster, he hurried towards the man.

The guard’s head turned towards Wally as he drew near. “I’m here to see Dick,” he informed him, trying to look as though he was supposed to be here.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Nice try, but Mr. Wayne didn’t say anything about a visitor.”

“No, really,” said Wally earnestly.

The guard snorted. “Do I look like I was born yesterday? Son, I have strict instructions about who I let into this room and nobody said anything about some teenager.”

“I’m not just some teenager!” Wally retorted loudly. “Dick’s my best friend!”

The guard put a hand on his shoulder and tried to manoeuvre him the other way. “Pull the other one.”

Wally shot out from under the hand. “I’m not lying, I swear! Just ask Bruce.”

“Mr. Wayne specifically said not to disturb them. Now go home, son, before I have you escorted off the premises.”

Wally opened his mouth to argue just as the door opened. The figure of Bruce Wayne frowned down at him. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne,” said the guard at once. “This kid is refusing to leave. I’ll have him removed.”

“Its fine, Henry, thank you,” said Bruce, still frowning at Wally as he stood aside to let the teenager in.

“Told you,” Wally shot at the guard as he entered.

The door clicked shut and Bruce folded his arms as he glared at Wally. “I told you to go back to Mount Justice.”

“I did. Changed clothes and came back,” Wally retorted, then wilted slightly under the infamous Batglare.

“Bruce? What’s goin’ on?” a sleepy voice interrupted. 

Wally peered around the massive form of Bruce just in time to see Dick sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. 

“Dude!” he cried happily, zipping over to the bed and throwing his arms around the younger boy.

“Ooof! Wally?”

“You’re alive! You’re awake!” Wally babbled happily, clinging tightly.

“Walls, not that it’s not great to see you, but – ow,” Dick’s muffled voice spoke into his shoulder.

“Oh, sorry,” said Wally sheepishly, letting go of the enthusiastic hold and studying his friend. Aside from his injuries and a too pale face, Dick looked relatively…okay. He was even looking at Wally with one eyebrow raised and an amused smile. “I just…you scared me. _Never_ do that again!”

“Sorry, can’t promise that. Halloween is only a few weeks away!” Dick grinned, but there was a slight flash of something in his blue eyes. Knowing his best friend as well as he did, Wally realized that Dick was still a little freaked. 

He resisted the urge to hug him again. Dick wasn’t Bruce – who may as well have a three foot wide fence surrounding him with a flashing neon sign saying ‘don’t touch’ mounted on it – but he still wasn’t quite as touchy-feely as Wally.

Behind him, Bruce cleared his throat and both boys looked at him. “I _was_ waiting for Alfred to arrive so I could go and make a few calls to let everyone know that you’re okay,” he told Dick, while looking pointedly at Wally. “But since Wally is here, I can do that now. It will give you two a chance to talk.”

Dick nodded.

“If you need anything, buzz the nurse,” Bruce told him, placing one hand on Dick’s head and ruffling his hair, while the other squeezed Dick’s good hand. “Alfred will be here shortly and I won’t be too long, okay?”

Dick nodded again before Bruce kissed the top of his head and headed for the door. “Wally, stay here until I get back,” he ordered as he left the room.

Wally, who had been gawping shamelessly at Bruce’s actions, snapped his mouth shut. “He’s still doing that?! Dude, did he get hit in the head?”

Dick laughed at Wally’s expression. “What are you talking about?”

“Hello?! Bruce suddenly acting like a human being? I thought it was because you weren’t waking up but–”

“Wait!” Dick interrupted, confused. “Wally, what _are_ you talking about?”

“You know…you were all unconscious and stuff after we got you out of the box. And you didn’t move the whole way into Gotham–”

“You were there?!”

“Well, yeah, the whole team were.” He looked at Dick’s shocked expression. “You didn’t know?”

Dick shook his head.

Wally was bewildered. “Didn’t Bruce tell you what happened?”

“He didn’t get the chance. We were kind of talking about other stuff and I fell asleep. You were here when I woke up.”

Wally blew air through his teeth. “Man, have I got a lot to tell you. For one thing,” he lowered his voice, “the team know you’re Robin.”

Dick was stunned. “ _How?_ ”

“It was an accident. When we got you out of the coffin, you’re hair was messy, like when you’re Robin, and there was tape all around your eyes, so you looked like Robin and well…” Wally shrugged “…they kind of figured it out.”

Dick’s eyes were wide as he stared at Wally and the speedster began to feel a little worried. “Dude, are you okay with this?”

“I…does Bruce know?”

“Yeah. Um…they sorta know that he’s Batman as well.” Dick remained silent and Wally rushed to reassure him. “I think he’s cool with it – he came with us in the bio-ship to Gotham.”

“What– what about the team? Are they…okay with it?”

“Well, yeah, why wouldn’t they be?”

Dick fiddled with his blankets. “B–because…sometimes people look at me like I’m a spoilt brat…just because of who Bruce is.” 

“You’re not a spoilt brat!” cried Wally at once, before adding in a quieter voice, “And your friends all know that.”

Dick gave him a small smile. “So they’re really okay?”

“Honestly? Miss M and Supey didn’t even know who Bruce was before this weekend! Artemis was more freaked about Bruce being Batman, and Kaldur had figured it out anyway.”

“How did Kaldur figure it out?!”

Wally blushed. “Um…guilty?”

“What?! Wally!”

“I couldn’t help it! Your kidnapping freaked me out! And then our mission in Gotham was connected – which Bats totally knew it was – and I sort of went a little nuts. So that made Kal suspicious and then when I wouldn’t go for pizza with them–”

Dick’s jaw dropped. “ _You_ didn’t want to go for pizza?!” 

“Didn’t feel right without you there.” Wally shuffled awkwardly.

The younger boy tilted his head. “Were you really that worried?” 

“Dude, you’re my best friend,” said Wally quietly, “of course I was worried.” 

Dick used his good hand to reach out and grasp the older teenager’s. “Thanks for getting me out, Walls.”

Wally squeezed his hand and returned the warm smile. “Anytime, bro.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Recognise, Robin B 01. Recognise, Batman 02.” 

The automated voice echoed in Robin’s ears, and he swallowed nervously as he and Batman materialized at Mount Justice. Flexing the fingers of his good hand to help the pins and needles wear off, Robin glanced up at his mentor.

It had been almost a week since his nightmare kidnapping and this was the first time he had been back to Mount Justice. Wally had been to see him at the manor almost every day, but he hadn’t seen the rest of the team since they’d discovered his real name and, much as he hated to admit it, he was nervous about facing them. Would they be angry that he had told Wally and not them? Or would they treat him differently now that they knew who he really was? As Dick Grayson, son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, he was all too frequently on the receiving end of jibes about being a spoiled brat. He couldn’t bear it if his friends now thought he was one too.

Batman smiled down at him reassuringly, placing one hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. Robin gave him a small smile and moved forward awkwardly using a large wooden crutch that reached up under his arm for support. Because his left fingers were heavily splinted, he was unable to use a regular crutch and had to use his right hand to move it forward. The crutch made him look like Tiny Tim and he freaking _hated_ it! But if he wanted to be mobile than this was currently his only option.

He and Batman entered the control room and found Red Tornado, Black Canary and Flash clustered around the holographic computer. All three looked up as they entered, and Flash’s face split open in a wide smile before he zipped over to Robin.

“Robin! It’s good to see you. How’re you feeling?” he spoke quickly, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“Fine, thanks.” Robin grinned up at him, feeling a warm surge of gratitude.

That he was alive today was partly due to the actions of the Flash. Seeing his nephew so upset about his best friend’s kidnapping, Flash had visited Mount Justice the night before the ransom drop and deliberately talked to Red Tornado about the connection between Dick’s kidnapping and the Mexican drug cartel within earshot of Superboy. His intention had been for the team to get involved purely to distract Wally until the ransom drop took place. He had never dreamed that they would end up saving Dick’s life.

“Where’s the rest of the team?” Robin asked, mentally cursing the tremor of apprehension in his voice.

“In the kitchen waiting for you, although I don’t think they were expecting you just yet. Why don’t you head down there and surprise them?”

“Okay… And, Flash, thanks,” Robin added softly. 

Flash smiled, patting his shoulder. “Anytime, kiddo.” 

Nodding hello to Black Canary and Red Tornado before throwing a last nervous glance at his mentor, Robin headed in the direction of the kitchen. He had to pause a few times to push his sunglasses back up his nose as the unsteady movements of the crutch caused them to slide down. Despite the team now knowing his identity, Batman had insisted that he continue to wear the dark glasses as there were still League members who were unaware of their real names. 

Truthfully, Robin was glad of the excuse to wear his glasses; he was uncertain of his friends’ reaction to him now that they knew who he really was, and he felt a lot less exposed with them on.

As he approached the kitchen, Robin could hear yelling. He realized Wally and Artemis were bickering about something and smiled at the easy familiarity of it. Arriving at the kitchen, he paused in the doorway and snorted with laughter to see that Artemis had Wally in a headlock while the speedster yelled furiously at her.

“I told you! I didn’t eat your stupid cake!”

“Oh, yeah? The only person here who can’t keep his hands off other people’s food is you, Kid Moron!”

“That was one time!”

“One?! Try three!”

“Robin!” M’gann’s voice cut across their bickering causing the heads of everyone to swivel towards him. Robin felt his face go warm.

“Rob! You’re here!” Wally beamed from where he was trapped beneath Artemis’ arms. “Geroff, harpy!” he mumbled, using the momentary distraction to wriggle free before zooming over to the younger boy and slinging an arm around his shoulder. He glanced down at the crutch. “Dude, you look like Tiny Tom.”

“Tiny who?” Artemis demanded as she and the others joined them.

“You know, that kid from _A Christmas Carol_.”

“That’s Tiny Tim you idiot,” she retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Robin, it is good to have you back,” smiled Kaldur, placing a hand on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” 

“You don’t look fine,” said Conor bluntly, pointing to his fingers and the crutch.

Robin glanced down and wriggled the splinted fingers from where they stuck out over the crutch. “It’s not so bad,” he offered. “And it…it would have been a lot worse if it wasn’t for you guys.” He swallowed. “Thanks for getting me out.” 

“That is what friends do,” said Kaldur quietly, squeezing his shoulder gently. 

“We wanted to visit…you know, after?” Artemis put in. “But Wally said you were pretty tired and needed to rest.”

“What?! No I didn’t, I was bored out of my tree! Wally!” Robin snagged the arm of the speedster who had been slowly easing away. “Why did you tell them that?”

The red-head shuffled his feet before blurting, “Ididn’twanttoshareAlfred’scookies!”

“In English please,” Artemis told him, “we don’t all speak idiot.”

He glared at her. “I didn’t want to share Alfred’s cookies, okay?”

“Who’s Alfred?” asked Connor, frowning.

“Our butler,” Robin spluttered, laughing. He couldn’t be mad at Wally; the older teenager was such a doofus sometimes.

“Never mind,” said M’gann warmly, leaning over and giving Robin a kiss on the check, causing him to blush and Wally to mouth soundlessly in indignation. “You’re here now and that’s what matters. Come on, I made cupcakes!”

Robin allowed himself to be led into the kitchen where his friends had set up a small party to welcome him back and felt warmth spread through him. They were glad to see him, and none of them were looking at him like he was a spoilt brat or treating him any differently. His apprehension at their reaction disappeared, especially once he realized that they hadn’t even questioned why he was still wearing his shades, they just accepted it. 

“We also had a cake,” Artemis told him, shoving a plate with cupcakes into his good hand, “but that seems to have vanished.” She glared at Wally who looked completely unconcerned. “I’ll get you some soda.”

As she headed for the fridge, Robin raised an eyebrow at Wally. “ _Did_ you eat the cake?”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna tell her that!”

Robin rolled his eyes and laughed, relaxing in the presence of his friends. He wondered how he could have ever thought that they would treat him differently.  
Artemis returned with his soda, then frowned as she realized he wouldn’t be able to hold both the soda and the plate of cupcakes. “Want to sit down?” she asked, nodding in the direction of the couches. “Kid Dork won’t notice.”

Wally was now flirting shamelessly with M’gann, much to Superboy’s ire, while Kaldur attempted to mediate.

Robin chuckled. They really needed to clue Wally in on that score.

Artemis took the plate from Robin and led the way towards the couches. He followed awkwardly, scowling at the stupid crutch. Carefully, he lowered himself to the couch cushions beside Artemis and hissed as a slight pain twanged in his thigh. He couldn’t wait for his leg to heal: being an acrobat, Robin hated having to curtail his movements.

He balanced his crutch against the cushions, while Artemis placed the cupcakes on the table in front of them and handed him a soda, before opening her own and taking a very large gulp. Robin was surprised when he noticed her hands shake slightly.

He tilted his head and studied her in concern. “Artemis, are you okay?”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye but didn’t answer.

“Artemis?” he prodded nervously. Maybe this was going to be a little bit of weird after all. “Is something wrong?”

She finally looked at him and hissed, “We’ll _laugh_ about this someday?!”

And then he knew what was bothering her. She wasn’t concerned about his civilian identity; she was worried about her own. He had been so worried about how the team would react to finding out he was Dick Grayson that he’d forgotten this might be an issue for Artemis.

“But you’re not laughing,” he pointed out.

“And why do you think that might be, Boy Genius?!”

He winced at the barely concealed panic in her voice. “Artemis, I’m not going to betray your secret.”

“How– how much do you know?”

“All of it.”

Her eyes widened. “And…it doesn’t bother you?!”

“Why would it? You aren’t your family.”

She stared at him. 

He put a hand on hers. “Artemis, you’re my team mate and my friend, where you come from doesn’t matter. And I promise your secret is safe with me.” He grinned. “Trust me; I’m good at the secret thing.”

She looked relieved. “You’re not as subtle as you think about these things, Bird Boy! I mean, we’ll laugh about this someday?!”

“You still didn’t know it was me though,” he grinned slyly.

“Can you blame me? Do you know how small you look in your uniform?”

“Gee, thanks,” he mumbled, blushing. Why the heck did everyone have to keep pointing out his _size_? 

She smirked. “Serves you right after that stunt with the picture… _and_ the spelling bee shtick!” 

He cackled. “I wish I could have recorded that! You suck at lying by the way.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re a little troll,” she retorted fondly, punching him lightly in the arm.

“I’ll have you know that trolling is an art form,” he said cheerfully, just as Wally flung himself onto the couch beside them, sending Robin’s carefully propped crutch clattering to the floor. He looked distinctly put out as he helped himself to one of Robin’s cupcakes.

“Supey really needs to work on his anger issues,” he told them, biting into the sweet treat. “IdnttnkwhaIsidwafthtbam.”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “And the English translation of that would be…?”

He swallowed. “I said, I didn’t think what I said was that bad. I only suggested that maybe some M’gann sugar would wash down the cupcakes very well and then Supey– Owwwww!” he screeched when Artemis reached over Robin and slapped him upside the head. “What was that for?” 

“Because you’re a pig.”

“What did I do?!” he demanded indignantly. “You know, if you were a flavour you’d be _sour_!”

She looked like she wanted to leverage the half eaten cupcake in his hand into his face. “Do you ever get tired of annoying people?”

“Nope. Especially not when it’s you.”

Robin grinned and leaned back against the couch with his hands behind his head as they started to bicker once more: Wally and Artemis were always entertaining. He revelled in the presence of his friends as Kaldur, M’gann and Conor seated themselves on the other couch and joined in the heated discussion.  
Despite his brutal kidnapping just a few days ago, Robin felt completely happy and at peace right now. Bruce hadn’t gone to work once over the last few days, instead spending them with Dick while he recovered. They had talked about a lot of things, which had done much to alleviate his fears and insecurities about not wanting to be Batman, while also making him feel like he mattered more to Bruce than just as Robin – something that had been bothering him for a while now.

And now his friends had just welcomed him back after he had hidden stuff from them. Understanding why, no questions asked, they just accepted him as he was. It was the most free he had felt in a long time – he didn’t have to hide his real self from either the team or Bruce anymore. He also felt a grim amusement at the irony that it took being kidnapped to finally feel this free.

Beside him, Wally was now engaged in simultaneously flirting with M’gann, arguing with Artemis, and devouring cupcakes. Robin smiled. Wally was the one person he had always been able to be himself with; not hiding anything or feeling he had to prove something. He was really lucky to have him as his best friend.

Wally caught his sideways glanced and smiled, handing Robin the cupcake he was just about to eat. Robin grinned back before biting into the sweet treat. He was officially feeling the aster.


End file.
